


Unstable Matters: the Journal of Zac

by msn00100



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Action, Adventure, Dark Comedy, Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-16 23:03:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 72,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1365013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msn00100/pseuds/msn00100
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Zac the "Secret Weapon," staying neutral in the politics of Valoran is a constant juggling act. Determined to live up to his title of Zaunite Superhero, he becomes attached to a political ordeal that will take him across Runeterra. What begins as a simple excursion out into the world, will grow into a series of discoveries that shocks the political scene of Valoran to its core.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Unstable Matters: the Journal of Zac (Prologue)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note 09/10/14: please note that this story was started before Riot made changes to their old lore starting with the Shurima Update. This story and the plot behind it was conceived around the beginning of Season 4 (before the Institute of War was removed to divide gameplay and the world setting), and will be finished with what was considered canon at that time.

* * *

**Unstable Matters: the Journal of Zac (Introductory Summary)**

The continent of Valoran, with its history of war and conflict, steadily moves into the future.

Since the founding of the Institute of War and the League of Legends, humanity has moved past the Rune Wars that nearly brought mankind to extinction. Although the world is still plagued with problems, an uneasy peace has been formed under the Institute of War's structure. Every day teams of "Champions" fight on arenas known as the "Fields of Justice," where the outcome of their fights are used to settle conflicts between individuals, private parties, and whole city-states alike.

Zac, aka the "Secret Weapon," is one such Champion who fights every day. Killing other Champions, and being killed in turn, but never actually dying. As an Independent Champion not affiliated with any major power on Valoran, he has the luxury of picking and choosing what he fights for.

However, those who wait and plot in the shadows of the Institute have other ideas in mind.

On the eve of his one-year anniversary of joining the League of Legends, he will receive an offer to work for two of the most dangerous individuals on Valoran: Katarina Du Couteau and Jericho Swain. The mission: deliver a shipment of hextech weapons to the Order of the Shadows in Ionia, retrieve an ancient artifact relating to Valoran's history in return, and stop a potential Ionian civil war from erupting over the exchange. Unwilling to see the world descend into the chaos similar to the Rune Wars, Zac accepts their offer. Tagging alongside of him will be Ahri, the Nine-Tailed Fox, and Riven, the Exile, both of whom find themselves involved for their own reasons. What begins as an excursion out into the world, like an afterthought spoken on the winds, will grow into a series of revelations and discoveries that will shock the political scene of Valoran to its core.

Zac's tenacity, Ahri's charm, Riven's valor, Katarina's voracity, and the force that birthed the Institute of War.

It would all become the beginning of a revolution. A reconquest of the world.

* * *

**(Prologue: Unstable Matters)**

_Alright._

_I'm writing this thing because a lot of people told me to. They said that writing is good for organizing your thoughts, but I've never really been the kind of guy that's needed to do that, until lately._ _I have a lot more to think about now though, that's for sure. I bet a lot of_ _them mean well and are just looking out for me, but I'm also sure that some others would want to steal this and use it against me._

_Just another day on the job, right?_

_Let's start with the basics, from the top._

_I'm the "Secret Weapon," a.k.a. Zaun's Amorphous Combatant. The one, the only, Zaunite superhero in the goo._

_I'm not sure what's so "secret" about me, considering you can't possibly miss the bright green, humanoid jelly-man running around. Especially when I'm leaping over the jungle walls of Summoner's Rift to body slam into people, or punching them hard enough to knock them over the sides of the Howling Abyss. (I'm not anybody's "weapon," for the record.)_ _Never in my wildest dreams did I think that I'd get philosophical discussions (and fist fights) with so many different people, creatures, monsters, robots. You name it._

_Neutrality is one of the hardest things to maintain in the League, especially when all of the city-states participating are only doing so to pull a fast one over the others. I've gotten everything from loving affections to death threats on the same day for simply speaking to people who are at odds with each other._

_If you can believe it, the Champion that has never questioned my intentions was Twitch, or as he's more infamously known, the "Plague Rat." When I first joined the League and was settling into my apartment, someone had already tipped him off that we shared similar backgrounds. Word travels fast in a city in the center of the world. I was worried at first that he had some crazy ratty schemes I wanted nothing to do with, but it seems that his interest was more comically lackadaisical than I imagined. You'd be surprised what kind of conversations you can have with a psychotic mutant rat (with an itchy trigger finger) when you don't have a sense of smell._

_But enough of that._

_Let me say one thing clearly: the Institute and League are all about politics, and don't let anyone say otherwise._

_The only reason they exist is to forcibly balance the political powers on Runeterra, since this is a world where you didn't need excuse to rain death and destruction down on your neighbors._ _I knew what I was getting into from the day I first bounced through the reflection chamber and into the League, but at the same time, I didn't. What you imagine in your head is one thing, but actually experiencing it is another. It's hard to remain indifferent to others when you're pouring your heart and soul out fighting in an arena with four strangers against five others._

_Especially when the five others on the opposing team are really, really hell bent on trying to kill you._

_And it's even worse when your allies want to kill you after the match, and your attackers want to make friends with you._

_But like I said:_ _Just another day on the job, right?_

_I used to think that, but now I'm not so sure. All I know right now is that if I'm going to bother writing in this thing, I might as well bleed out my green guts out onto it. I'm not going to go as far as to claim that Zilean will want to use this as a reference to historical events, or that Ezreal might want to store it in the Institute's library for safekeeping. The story I could spin would probably be filled to the brink with the kind of cliche lessons that get passed down from parents to their children. Ham-fisted junk about me maturing from a naive kid afraid of the world, into a big strong guy who is better at pretending that he isn't afraid of the world. Stories filled with super natural adversaries, magic objects, jokes and anecdotes, and the taboo. The kind of fables that get handed down over and over, until the end of time. I think people will be fairly surprised at my observations, considering the crazy adventure I went through still has the Institute of War and all of the city-states on Valoran in a buzz.  
_

_And it's a good thing that they are, don't get me wrong. They should be. I'm sure there will be countless police inquiries, military investigations, and scientific studies done on the events that unfolded. They'll write reports, point fingers, shout accusations, scratch their heads, and make judgmental assumptions. They'll look over the evidence, ask question after question, debate between themselves, and still not come to any solid conclusion._

_But that's good._

_Because some day they'll appreciate the fact that they're able to think about the past._

_Maybe it's only intelligent creatures that take the privileged of hindsight for granted. Someone famous once said, "One does not care to acknowledge the mistakes of one's youth." Being able to second guess events in history makes you an adult, which is something that so many people in this world never got a chance to become._

__But I don't want to start this thing off on such a depressing note. I want this journal show to show that I'm not just good at punching things. Because f_ or all their history and intrigue, half of the Champions here are as subtle as Vi chasing bank robbers. ("Criminals can't hide if you just collapse their hideouts on top of them." Her words, not mine.)_

_So to start this off... I might as well make it entertaining right?_

_I think… Yeah. It all started the afternoon that I caught Katarina and Talon going through my belongings._

_It was the first day I actually felt worried that being a loner could work against me._

 


	2. Unstable Matters Chapter 1: Let's Bounce! (Part 1)

**Unstable Matters Chapter 1: Let's Bounce (Part 1)**

_Now I know I said that I was going to start off by explaining why Katarina Du Couteau (and Talon) were rummaging through my stuff like they'd find something of value, but let me ask something first._

_Have you ever wondered what it's like in the Institute of War? A facility filled to the brim with the deadliest collection of arcane magics, smack dab in the middle of the two largest and prominent city-states. A place that anyone with a brain would stay away from, and not voluntarily join because of some delusions to contributing to a higher cause?_

_I know that somebody thought it was politically symbolic to place it geographically between the two nations, but I doubt the rapid success of the League as political intermediary will allow it to remain there for long. The ease in which the southern islands of Ionia got attacked from all different sides is proof of this. Anyone with a map can look and realize how the Institute just blocks Demacia's land routes to the rest of the city-states, while almost implying that Noxus has free reign behind the Institute's walls to do as it wishes._

_Which it does, don't get me wrong. The League's responsibility is to stop all-out war being declared by major powers, not regulate some sort of international law about common decency. If the High Command of Noxus' military wants something, they're going to get it one way or another. You'd have to be a real idiot to think that a Noxus under Swain Jericho has lost its bite. I mean, I heard the guy actually said (during his League judgment) that his two reasons for joining the League were to gain control of Noxus and kill Prince Jarvan the fourth. And so far, if you're counting, he's one for two._

_Although if fighting on Summoner's Rift counts, then he's two for two._

_So basically, the history of Runeterra is violence. Oodles and oodles of flagrant uncontrolled violence, and the League was created to mediate that violence. So now you're probably asking why I'm bringing up history and geography into this._

_When you look into a metaphorical "rabbit hole," you're supposed to be cautious about how deep it can go._

_I didn't expect to catch "Kitty-Kat" and her "Street Rat" (LeBlanc's words) going through my room would throw me into an adventure all the way from the Institute, to the streets of Piltover, and to the ports in Bilgewater just to get an answer I knew I wouldn't like._

_Hell, sometimes I wonder if I had an actual brain, if I would have been smart enough to just pretend that we never spoke that afternoon._

_I guess I had been running on gut instinct for so long that I just let it get the better of me._

* * *

Zac slid down with his back against the built up wall of the wraith pit, ignoring the angry looks from the ragged specters occupying it with him. Looking back on the path from where he came, it was understandable that the jungles of the Summoner's Rift could be intimidating to some. With their maze-like pathways, overgrown vegetation, and being filled with hostile monsters (and sometimes invading champions). But for someone who was used to running around it from lane to lane, it became like a second home. The jungle was a place to hide, a place to rest, and a place to beat up monsters for easy money.

But every now and then, you end up encountering something you don't expect.

Which, he lamented, was happening now.

"LEONA! Come out and face me!"

_Ugh. Why are ninety-nine percent of women in the League so aggressive?_

"You will not deny me!" he listened to Diana shout again, and as he peered over the walls of the wraith pit as discretely as possible. He grimaced automatically from seeing the Scorn of the Moon standing over a very ragged looking nine-tailed fox. Judging by the scrapes and bruises on both of them, the lunatic had managed to land her abilities faster.

"Come out and face me! Or I'll finish this damned vixen right here and now!"

 _Wonderful. A hostage situation_ , he inwardly sighed.

One of the biggest pains fighting for the League were how many of its champions had some sort of relationship to each other. More than a few matches he had fought in had boiled down to some member of the other team running around the map at random to hunt a single opponent. It should have been no surprise to him that some champions were willing to use other champions as bait to try and get what they wanted.

A groan of pain from Ahri made him cringe as he continued to watch warily. Her attacker was now shouting something about the sun and the moon while grinding the heel of her boots into her back. Since she hadn't been transported back to base from an automatic recall spell, he hoped meant that she still had some fight in her. Hardly enough to reverse her position with Diana, but maybe enough to…

No. Even if he had the element of surprise on his side, he needed more information. He couldn't risk getting one of his allies killed by rushing in on his own. Heaven forbid that the jungle on the enemy team decided to head toward the middle lane to see what was going on as well.

Giving the bruised gumiho one last glance of sympathy, he slid back down the walls of the wraith pit and focused his thoughts.

_Summoners, can you hear me?_

It took a few seconds for him to get an answer. Longer than it should take.

_We are here. Ahri in the middle lane isn't answering our summons. Can you see what's happening?_

Zac rolled his eyes at his guardian's cluelessness. He had never bothered to ask why, but on occasion he'd caught the Summoners responsible for commanding his team completely unaware of what was actually happening on Summoner's Rift. He knew for a fact that whatever magic Summoner's used let them see and hear what champions are experiencing, so was it really just human error that caused lapses in commands? The idea of risking his own neck against all manner of horrors while his caretakers were drinking coffee and chatting amongst themselves peeved him a bit.

 _Yeah. We have a bit of a problem here_ , was all he could really think of to say back. _Take a look for yourselves._

He could hear their hushed whispers and accusations in his head. Not a good sign.

But before anything else, a sound jolted him out of his thoughts.

There were many sounds he had become accustomed to listening for since he had started fighting in the League. Champion specific sounds. All champions in the League made some sort of noises that were distinctive to their fighting styles, and this one was no different.

Zac jerked backward out of reflex, pushing himself as tight as he could go against the walls of the wraith pit as a whirlwind of red and sharpened steel descended almost cutting him in two. After deadly the maelstrom stopped, Katarina the Sinister Blade stood in front of him wiping the ichor of the slain wraiths off of a long dagger. She looked down briefly at her handiwork, before flashing him a wicked smile.

"What's going on?" she demanded in a forceful but casual way completely expected of her.

"See for yourself," he whispered, pointing a finger over the walls of the wraith pit. He watched her glance over the wall for half a second, and knew that she understood the situation. "I'm not getting an answer from our Summoners. Is Leona coming from bottom lane?"

"No. She and Draven are pushing on their second tower and I don't want them to stop."

"So they had you come instead?"

"As if I need their approval to do anything," Katarina scoffed, giving Zac a look of disdain for his insinuation. "I came because I could hear her all the way from the top lane. For a traumatized introvert, she sure knows how to call attention to herself."

"Yeah, you're telling me," he found himself agreeing, as Diana broke into a new rant about something he didn't understand. Around her minions from both sides of the map were engaged in combat with each other, oblivious to the situation between them. He turned back around and saw her staring at him expectantly.

"...Well?"

"What?" he asked back intelligently.

"You look like you have something on your mind. Spit it out," she demanded, checking over the number of throwing knives attached to her belt and leggings as she spoke.

"Well, I was going to go with my own plan B."

"Which was?"

"Grab a wraith and throw it in her face to distract her." He looked down at the shredded remains of the hostile monsters as they disappeared into thin air. The corpses of all creatures and minions on Summoner's Rift disappeared shortly after their deaths, probably from some magic beyond his understanding. "But I don't think that's going to work now."

Katarina rolled her eyes, before shooting him a wicked grin.

"Forget our Summoners. I have a better plan."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, it's a classic. You distract her, and I'll stab her."

Without giving him a chance to retort, she disappeared from the pit just as fast as she had appeared.

"Yeah, sounds good. Because I just love testing out how durable I am," Zac grumbled before stretching his arms out. Staring at his own limbs a little apprehensively, he could feel the arcane magic of the items his Summoner had purchased for him flowing through him.

Items bought at the shop were not carried on champions physically. Instead, they were used to empower them through the same magic their Summoners used to assist them. The idea of someone running around fighting while carrying priceless magic relics amongst other strange items made it clear why it was better this way. (Not to mention how many champions wouldn't know how to use half the items sold at the store.) Hopefully the implied power of the magic set of armor known as the Spirit Visage he was "wearing" would keep him alive a little longer.

_Well, here goes nothing._

"HEY! MOONLIGHTER!" Tossing himself over the high wall of the wraith pit, Zac landed with a splat and reformed himself parallel to the side lanes of the jungle outside of the river on his team's side of the map. He glanced around as quick at the bushes along the river, but could see no signs of where Katarina had disappeared to. "You think you're tough, huh!? Well try taking on someone like me!"

Diana turned to face him, a scowl on her painted face and her massive signature khopesh in hand. "I have no business with you, monster! Bring me the Solari I seek!" she demanded, lowering her weapon toward Ahri who still remained pinned underneath her. "Or is she afraid to challenge me in battle!?"

"Sorry kiddo, but Leona's a little busy. She doesn't have time to play with little girls who still paint their faces," Zac taunted. In his mind, however, he was starting to second guess how well the magic artifacts he had earned would save him from being cut into several hundred pieces by an enraged heretic with her own.

"You dare mock me!?" Diana thrust her weapon out threateningly, pointing it at him with a rising fury in her eyes. "What do you know of my struggles!? Who are you to take sides in my battle!?"

"Don't talk down to me like it's my fault!" Zac shot back. "You can just jog down to the bottom lane and yell at Leona all you want! You made this personal when you took someone on my team hostage!"

"Team!? Ridiculous!" Diana threw her head back and laughed, resting her weapon at her side and away from Ahri. "Half of the champions in this League of Legends are trying to kill each other the moment they step off the battlefield! And the other half are trying to do so while they're ON it! What teamwork is there to be had in that!?"

"I can't argue with that," Zac said, a little humbled by the blunt truth in her words. "But I'm a blob of action! I'm not going to sit and hide when an ally gets into trouble just because I don't know them!"

"Hmm. Brave words," Diana placed the handle under her arm, and gave him a slow clap in mock applause. "But I wonder how long you can entertain such naivety. Betrayal is the inevitable result of trust that will always hit you hardest when you least expect it."

"I'm guessing you would know, huh?" Zac said, finding his words to be more of a comment than a retort.

"Yes… but the battlefield is hardly the place for that." He watched as she stepped away from Ahri, but took the distinctive stance she positioned herself in before launching her magic Crescent Strike attack. "Now prepare yourself! The moon has no mercy for those who block my path!"

"Bring it on!" Zac shouted back, more to comfort himself at the prospect of facing a determined foe one on one.

Although he hadn't fought her many times before, he had watched records of the fighter/mage chaining her abilities together in rapid succession to do incredible amounts of damage at close distance. Fast and furious, just like any of the other sword fighters that were in the League's ranks. If he remembered correctly, she also had some sort of ability with lunar energy to attack with more damage every so often.

Could he get in closer and fight with his fists? No, that's what she would want. All of her abilities involved drawing her enemies closer to cut down with her lunar chops, and the natural durability of his unusual body wouldn't make any difference against a weapon like that. He had to wonder if getting a weapon of his own would be a good idea someday.

He could try to jump in and land the first hit. After all, she had to have taken some damage in her fight against their own middle laner before he had challenged her to fight. But what if she had used some items during the time they had been talking? What if she had been stalling him on purpose, and had never intended to use Ahri as a hostage from the start?

And what about Ahri? Hadn't this whole mess been centered around the fact that she had been taken hostage? He glanced at her quickly and could see that she was still on the ground after all this time. Was Diana going to leave her be after all? Or was there the risk of her going back and using her as a hostage again if he somehow got the edge in their fight?

And what about Katarina!? Was she still waiting in some shadow unseen, waiting for the right opportunity to present itself? Or had he taken too long, and she was already moving back to the top lane to fight her own counterpart? And thinking about counterparts, would the champion of the enemy team who was tasked with the position of jungler like himself come out to help their middle laner fight him!?

What felt like a small eternity passed, as both champions stared each other in the eyes. Diana with her moonsilver blade raised and ready to strike, and Zac with his arms held up in the air ready to ward off her first blow. An experimental weapon gone rogue facing a vengeful heretic who had slaughtered her elders. Neither champion moved nor spoke a word, the sounds of happenings elsewhere on Summoner's Rift reduced to dull echoes coming in from the dried up river at their sides.

Without warning Diana broke the standoff, yelling a battle cry and swinging her weapon forward with tremendous force. Instantly a brilliant light radiated from the tip of her blade, curving toward his neck in a crescent arc. The brilliantly white shining burst of magic was more than capable of shredding and shearing through armor like paper, and his mind (or whatever made up his brain) screamed at the rest of his body to dodge it.

In a surprising burst of ingenuity he crouched down while pulling his head and neck down into his chest, shortening his height and allowing the slicing burst of magic to pass over his head harmlessly. In the same motion he threw both of his arms out, rooting his fingers into the ground and stretching his body out to slingshot himself forward. If she wanted to pick a fight, she was going to get one! One hundred percent of his muscles, with a flawless delivery right to the face!

Then suddenly a red flash suddenly burst onto the middle lane behind both of them, and before either could react it transformed itself into a living whirlwind of sharpened steel that fired daggers out like a hextech machine-gun. Zac recognized it immediately as Katarina's (self-titled) ultimate technique infamously known as the "Death Lotus." A rapid barrage of enchanted armor piercing throwing daggers that also prevented the unfortunate targets from healing properly too.

Torn between her initial target and her new attacker, Diana swung her weapon back in a vain attempt at warding off the unexpected hail daggers heading her way. The deadly projectiles still hit their mark, most of them striking her like a pin cushion along her back barely, stopped by the armor she was wearing.

"Damn you!" she screamed at her new attacker, trying to turn and face the Noxian assassin. Refusing to fall from her injuries, she reached around her back in defiance and ripped one of the daggers out of her own flesh. She threw it into the ground back at Katarina, its tip a fresh red from landing on its mark. "Attacking from behind like a coward! Do you think that I will be killed so easily!?"

Katarina had stopped spinning from her attack, but didn't seem at all threatened by the words of her surviving target. With an amused smirk, she crossed her arms and lifted a single finger to point behind her.

"HEADS UP!"

Diana never got the chance to turn around again, before Zac landed on top of her with his full might. The weight of his body slamming into her back drove the daggers that Katarina had thrown further into her body, and with a loud splat she fell both skewered and crushed into the ground where they both landed.

Pulling himself back together after tackling her, Zac grimaced after realizing what he had done. The unintended combination of both their attacks had given their opponent a more grizzly death than he was used to seeing when fighting on the Rift. Even if Diana's body was already evaporating into moonlight, he couldn't help but pity her for what pain he must have brought upon her the moments before it. Katarina on the other hand, looked more entertained at the sight than discomforted.

"Too easy. Not bad Jumbo," she walked up over to him and hit him on the arm, hard enough that his entire frame jiggled. "We make a good team."

"Teamwork, huh? Is that what you call it?" Zac couldn't help but let out a rueful chuckle at her words. He looked at the ground where Diana had disappeared, noting the large blood stains that remained on the grass and soil.

"What?" Katarina's brow furrowed in irritation, and he knew that she knew what was on his mind. "Don't tell me that you regret killing her. It's not as if she's really dead. Normally she'd be back in a minute, good as new to get killed again."

"Yeah, well I still…" Zac started, but then stopped. Something about how she had said what she said as well as her persisting satisfied smirk stood out. "Wait, what do you mean 'normally'?"

"Hmm? What, you didn't hear? Our Summoners are having connection issues with the primary nexus. The match was cancelled a few minutes ago."

"WHAT!?" he shouted in surprise and exasperation, his gelatinous jaw dropping out from under him. "Then why did you kill her!?"

"We. We kill her." Katarina corrected, grinning like a cat with a mouse between its teeth. "And as for a reason why… do you think I like having to leave my lane when I'm killing creeps in peace? If I'm going to leave my lane, I should always have something to show for it."

"Really. You killed her just because of that?" Zac said flatly, give her as hard of a stare as he could muster.

"We. We killed her." She corrected again. Reaching down to the ground, she picked up the dagger Diana had pulled from her own body and thrown to the ground only moments ago. Inspecting it with a keen eye, she slipped it into an empty pocket with ease. "And if you really want to know, I killed her for insulting us both."

"Us both? Because she called me a monster before?"

"No, you idiot," she said, scolding him as she walked back over and hit him on the arm harder than before. "She had the nerve to behave like a spoiled child with complete disregard for us. Even if she joined the League just to get revenge against Leona, by demanding a personal fight in the middle of our match she insults us all by placing her personal vendetta above our time."

He hadn't thought of it that way. In fact, her point struck home in more ways than he was comfortable admitting to her. "Do you really think of it like that?" he felt compelled to ask.

Around Katarina, Ahri (who had passed out), and himself, a dim blue light began to circle around them both forming several rings as it went. A Recall spell being cast by their Summoners, probably to bring them back to base so that they could be teleported with other magic and brought outside of Summoner's Rift.

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't." Katarina rolled her eyes, giving him a look that made it clear that she wasn't going to be answering any more questions. "But I do know that violence solves everything."

He wanted to answer her back. Give her a reason why she was wrong, or explain that the League was meant to symbolize something better than that. Something to show that even if he agreed with her, he wasn't anything like her. But what could he say to her? What could he say to someone who had built a successful life for themselves mastering the art of violence? Considering the circumstance, it was pointless to argue with her. And so Zac scratched his head, let out a sigh, and struck the heroic pose he always took before a complete Recall spell was cast.

"Yeah, I guess it does."

And with that said, all three Champions were pulled back to their base.


	3. Unstable Matters Chapter 2: Let's Bounce! (Part 2)

**Unstable Matters Chapter 2: Let's Bounce (Part 2)**

Stepping out from the rune inscribed teleportation pad, Zac looked himself over to double check that he had returned in volume. The magical artifacts he advised to buy often increased his physical size, something he had noticed didn't happen with other champions. It was strange to return back to the Institute several sizes smaller than when he had left, but there was a small comfort knowing that he was still bigger than most other champions anyway. Sometimes size really did matter, especially with so many egos and clashing personalities living together in such a confined space.

"You IDIOT!"

He cringed from the sound of a shrill and feminine scream of anger coming from somewhere nearby in the Institute's teleportation chambers. Thankfully, not directed at him. It was always a good thing when someone wasn't screaming at him with a blood boiling level of fury in their voice the moment he stepped out of Summoner's Rift. It didn't seem to match the voices of Katarina, Ahri, or Leona as far as he could tell, nor anyone else who had been on the other team.

Hesitating for a second, he walked forward and gently pushed open the door of the chamber's exit and looked into the hall that connected all five teleportation chambers to the blue side. As a reward for his curiosity he was treated to the sight of Emilia LeBlanc, Matron of the Black Rose society, head-butting Draven and knocking the glorious execution right off of his feet.

"Of all the support you choose Leona!?" LeBlanc continued to yell, seemingly only growing more furious at Draven's unwillingness to take her seriously. "You knew that that lunatic was on the other team and you still choose her!"

With impressive agility Draven grabbed onto the handles of his spinning axes and pulled himself up onto his feet. "Geez! Lighten up grandma," he said, slinging both of his signature weapons onto his shoulders and forcefully pushing past her. "We totally dominated the bottom lane together. It's not my fault your nine-tailed pet couldn't keep up."

"What!? You insolent little—" LeBlanc raised her staff like a club, determined to drive his head down into his neck. But before she could she was grabbed from behind by two arms and nine tails.

"Don't do it!" Ahri shouted, catching the Deceiver just in time so that her swing fell short. "Ahri is right here, good as new! Don't kill mister mustache over me!"

Zac opened the door of his room and walked out to close it behind him. LeBlanc continued to spew profanities (while being restrained by Ahri) at Draven's backside, who seemed to be only amused at the attention. Both Katarina and Leona had exited from their own rooms, walking away in silence and wanting nothing to do with the scene in front of them. But before he could slip away as well, he could hear the footsteps of Draven walking up closer to him in the hall.

"Hey, you! Big guy!"

Still ignoring the furious cursing of LeBlanc behind him, Draven walked up to Zac and tapped him on the arm with the side of his axe. "I heard you worked pretty well with our beautiful assassin in the middle lane! Took care of Diana like she was nothing! Not bad, for a giant blob."

"Yeah, thanks." Zac said back, off put by just how much the rumors of Draven's eccentric behavior seemed to be true. "I do workout after all."

Draven laughed loudly and boldly, flashing his white teeth in an over the top grin. "Ha-ha! Not afraid to show that you've got strength? I like that! You look tough enough to take whatever gets thrown at you! Maybe you and I should split some heads in the bottom lane some time, huh?"

"Uh... yeah. I'll think about it," Zac said, scratching the back of his head. He forced down some mental imagines he didn't want to humor from rising in his mind. Draven for his part didn't seem offended from his hesitancy or even notice it for that matter, with Ahri still restraining LeBlanc behind them both.

"Well, you know what they say: got axes, will carry." Draven threw his head back and let out a glorious laugh one more time before he began to walk off. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got places to go so people can see me."

"Sure... You have fun with that." Zac watched him go, humming a tune and spinning his axes in both hands in a way that barely managed to avoid damaging the things he passed further down the hall.

 _Noxians... Not as bad as people say when you stay on their good side_ , he thought to himself.

But any further thoughts were cut off when LeBlanc pulled herself out of Ahri's grip and started marching right up to him.

"And you!" the Matron of the Black Rose society brought the end of her staff down onto the flooring with a loud crack. She looked up at him threateningly, a sight which would be comical to some given that he was a whole two heads taller than her. "Why did it take you and Katarina so long to kill Diana!?"

Zac felt himself wince from being in the mage's crosshairs, deserved or not. Behind LeBlanc he could see Ahri shooting him a sympathetic look, as if she were apologizing for the trouble he was now in. Not that it would help against a master magician who knew how to kill a person in a blink of an eye.

_Sheesh, everyone's a critic today._

"Matron LeBlanc," Zac started off, trying his best to sound articulate and sincere. "I apologize for my lackluster performance on the Fields of Justice today. But you must understand, given Diana's mental state I was hesitant to act quickly for fear of getting Ahri killed if her attacker was confronted in haste. I hope you both will accept my apologies for not being able to resolve the situation faster."

With some satisfaction he watched the anger slowly drain from LeBlanc's face. He couldn't blame her, really. The League contained so many different monsters in it that you could never tell whether conversations with atypical champions were going to be normal or one-sided babblings of ravenous monsters. And in some cases you got both. How could she know that a green jelly monster had more tact and charisma than other living weapons like Urgot or Sion?

"Yes, well..." Realizing her own failure to keep her composure, LeBlanc cleared her throat before turning around to leave. "Apology accepted. See to it that it won't happen again."

Zac rolled his eyes, watching the sorceress leave as proud as a princess with her head held high. "Yes ma'am."

And with that settled, he finally began to leave in hopes of procuring a snack he had been dreaming of while farming in the jungle.

There was always something about fighting a massive ancient golem, fireball throwing lizard-men, and a small pack of angry wolves that made him hungry for something to eat. Although the magic used on Summoner's Rift allowed for endless deaths and revivals of the champions on it, the same magics never did anything to suspend or sustain the nutritional needs of his body. Something that he found peculiar, while other champions seemed to care less about such trivial things. (With the exception of Kog'maw, who probably obsessed about it day and night.)

Not that his body was like any other with a normal organ system. In fact, "snacking" for Zac was just gobbling down whatever he felt like and waiting for it to dissolve in wherever his stomach would exist around for that day. A simple chemical cocktail of proteins was all he needed to maintain his structure, but where was the fun in that?

With the match ended, technical cancellation or not, the rest of the afternoon was free for him to enjoy. There weren't many days where someone or some group wanted him to act as their jungler or top laner, so what free time he had was to be cherished. After all, now outside of the Rift there was nothing that could stop him now.

Almost.

Her own steps were in perfect synchronization with his own, and the loud slaps made by his gelatinous feet against the floor were much louder than her petite feet in their slippers. The only real way he knew she was still behind him was the light rustle of nine tails flickering in the air as their owner walked, and the playful ringing of the bell she wore strapped around her waist.

"That was pretty slick, you know that?"

"You think so?" Zac asked, continuing without stopping to head toward the outer regions of the Institute.

"I do. You defended yourself and showed how her anger was misplaced. Very impressive," Ahri said, her body language making it clear that she still wanted to talk to him. Closing the distance between them she sneakily slipped her arm around his own to grab hold of him and slow him down a little. Now walking together he shot her a questioning look, but she shrugged it off with an innocent smile. A subtle way of saying that even if he leapt out a nearby window and onto the ground several stories below, she would catch him eventually.

"Walk with me?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Nope!" she answered in a chipper tone, something that made his non-existent spine shiver. Tamed, reformed, or whatever you wanted to call it, there was still something about characters like Ahri that unnerved him a little. They were similar to himself in that they shouldn't be judged by their appearances, and yet…

Seeing his unconvinced face, she frowned and waggled a finger at him disapprovingly. "Tut, tut! Shame on you. Do you know how many men in Valoran would kill to be in your position?"

_More like how many men in Valoran were killed in my position._

"As long as there aren't any champions here who will kill me for it."

"That's a little paranoid, you know. No one would try anything in the Institute with security as tight as it is."

"Then why do they shoot spells, swing weapons, and threaten me every day with all kinds of crap?"

"That's because they're trying to kill everyone," she ran a hand down his arm assuringly. "It's not personal, you know."

"...What difference does that make?"

Ahri puffed her cheeks out in a pout. "Fine. Then who are they? Who would want to kill you?"

"Every one of them," Zac told her just as firmly as when they had started.

"Every one of whom?"

"Every one of whom do you think?"

"I... Haven't any idea."

"Then how do you know they aren't?"

"W-well I-" Ahri spluttered, finding herself rendered momentarily speechless with frustration. "Then how do you know!?"

"Because to the best of my knowledge, I've never been wrong on purpose," Zac answered firmly, solidifying his victory.

From her perspective and history Ahri really thought she was right, which he naturally expected. But Zac had the proof on his side, since over a hundred strangers he didn't know routinely tried to kill him every time he walked out onto the battlefield to do the exact same thing to them. And if that wasn't good enough, there were plenty of other things that were great.

"Sigh. Alright, you win this time," she smiled happily as she said this, but the glimmer in her eyes told a different story. Something indicated that she was playing along with him for a reason, and not just for her amusement. Was it an illusion? Paranoia?

"Look, Ahri." He stopped himself and her in turn. There would be no beating around the bush if he ever wanted to get some peace for the rest of the afternoon. "Do you want something from me?"

"Well, I'd like for you to take me to lunch," Ahri answered without any hesitation or flirtations.

"You're asking me to take you on a date?"

"We could call it that if you'd like," she winked suggestively, gigging at the same time. He rolled his eyes again at her. "Hey, you said it first. Not me."

"Are we going to be doing this for the rest of the afternoon?"

Ahri stopped giggling and let go of his arm, taking a step back from him and placed her hands on her hips disapprovingly. She glowered at him with a face that had no interest in trading words and dancing in verbal duels. "Look, Zac," she said, mimicking his own tone. "I don't know about other champions, but I don't appreciate being treated like I'm waiting to put a knife in your back. Just because I'm a known liar and deceiver, doesn't mean you should treat me like like a disease."

 _I'm pretty sure that's EXACTLY the reason why I would_ , Zac thought to himself, noting how Ahri's tails would flicker about violently in time with her words.

"And another thing!" Ahri continued to chew him out. "It's not right for a gentleman to question the intentions of a lady with obnoxious scrutiny. Have some respect for my good intentions!"

No longer listening to her extended lecture, his thoughts wandered back to his musings about her predatory past. Buttering people up with sweet words of affection, or putting the effort into assuring the suspicions of more wary prey. A morbid curiosity that he would never ask, and not just because it wasn't proper etiquette. A blunt retort like that would probably result in more than a slap for his snark, and he had no interest in seeing how many of the nine tailed fox's powers were just as potent outside of the Rift.

But on the bright side of things, the fact that she hadn't just resorted to her seductive prowess to get whatever she wanted out of him meant that he still had some advantage over her. The only problem was that he didn't have a clue what that advantage was or how to use it to his favor.

Yielding to her with both hands in the air, he looked down at her as apologetically as possible for someone who wasn't in the slightest. Which was pretty good considering his face lacked any real defining features for Ahri to tell that he was lying to her about what he said next.

"Alright, I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?"

She took a moment to consider his offer, surveying him with a grim scornful satisfaction, before giving him the same seductive smile as before.

"Apology accepted."

Grabbing onto his arm again when he didn't offer it, they began to walk together toward the exits of the Institute of War.

Officially on maps the Institute only consisted of a single red dot smack in the middle between the city-states of Demacia and Noxus, in a complete and utter deceptive portrayal of the elaborate facility that existed in reality. Not only did that single red dot contain a large city to house all of the essential personnel responsible for up keeping the Institute, but lays upon other layers of housings for everything a person could imagine being attached to such an important organization. Merchants, tradesmen, laborers, tourists and students from all city-states; everything under the sun had a place to stay and do business somewhere around the Institute's surrounding city. In a sense, the Institute had become the center of the Valoran continent for more reasons than the League itself.

The primary buildings of the Institute itself were by no means unimpressive either. For the most part the outside of the Institute was designed to look as impressive as the possible, even more so if you were a Yordle. Large repeating columns of chiseled marble and granite, holding up larger architectural wonders. All purposefully decorated in ways that displayed the importance and authority of the Institute without ever being excessive. He had never stopped to inspect the designs in depth, but he knew that some portions of the Institute resembled the culture of other city-states on purpose.

"So, what do you eat anyway?" Ahri asked.

Zac waved at a group of novice Summoners in green robes, being led around the Institute past them on a hybrid lecture tour by their seniors. Their mixed reactions were expected, given that they were taught from their introduction that champions were to be respected (and even feared) at all times. Having someone like Ahri attached to him like Viktor's robot arm to his body wasn't helping things.

"Just about anything, I guess." He shrugged with apathy.

"Do you mind Ionian?"

"Going with what you're comfortable with?" He couldn't help but smile a little when her ears wilted from being read so easily. "Fine by me. I'm flexible like that."

"Good! I know the perfect place for dessert too." She pulled him by his arm around a corner along a different direction than where they had been heading. "I bet you'll like this place! They have the best desserts in the Institute, and you'd never guess who they have working there."

"Let me guess... Sinful Succulence, right?"

"You mean you've heard about it!?"

"Yeah, I've heard about it," was the mildest thing he could think to say back. When a sadistic dark arts master from another world opens a bakery, it's kind of hard not to hear about it. The amount of unconfirmed rumors circulating about the origin of Morgana's new hobby weren't helping either. "Are you sure her baking is safe?"

"It's fine. Trust me," Ahri stroked his arm reassuringly. "She may lay the whole enjoying pain and suffering thing on a bit thick, but her baking is fine. She doesn't even burn most of her batches with her magic anymore! I bet all those nasty rumors were started by her older sister anyway."

"Uh-huh," Zac said unconvinced. _Nasty rumors or a rational warning against a terrible idea? Well, we'll see soon._

Still walking through the main halls of the Institute of War, Zac and Ahri continued onward arm in arm. By now he was long accustomed to getting strange looks when people around him thought he wouldn't notice, but with Ahri wrapped around him it irritated him. It was a strange sensation, thinking about it. To be aggravated and even a little offended at something he paid little attention to, all because someone else was with him. Ahri probably got her own share of attention all of the time, but for different reasons.

He looked at her, noting how her hourglass curves swayed hypnotically back and forth when she walked. Her face reflected the mix of natural and magical lighting of the Institute's chambers, showing off the silky smooth complexion of her skin. All the while her eyes reflected a sharp and intelligent gaze that seemed to be thinking two steps ahead of whatever she was doing.

_Yeah. Definitely different reasons._

What was it like being a Champion with a more primal background? Should he ask her? And if he did, would her answers be a lot like his own? Constantly having to deal with the fear of others? The scrutiny? Surely all of this was something very personal that was none of his business. So why was he even humoring the possibility of asking?

But before Zac could decide, Ahri broke the silence first.

"...Look, I'm sorry about LeBlanc."

"Sorry? What for?" he asked, wondering why she was bring up something that felt like it had already happened ages ago. It wasn't uncommon for Champions to vent their frustrations after matches at anything that could understand them.

He watched her expression turned serious as she began to scan the area around them. Not fearful like a child afraid of being caught over something embarrassing, but almost like a spy who was relieving themselves of the notion that they were being watched by forces unseen. The look of someone who was being hunted, hounded, and was prepared to do almost anything for it to stop. Satisfied after a dedicated minute, she pulled herself closer and leaned up to whisper where his ears would be if he had any.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

Zac simply nodded, not sure what else he could say to assure her after such a cold sober display.

"LeBlanc was supposed to take the middle lane today, but I volunteered to substitute for her after she didn't feel up to it. I think she was feeling guilty that I got hurt when it could have been her fighting."

"Huh... Is that it so?" he blinked and nodded, the question of why LeBlanc was there observing the match in the first place answered. "Did you volunteer as a favor to her? I never knew you were on friendly terms."

"I kind of owe her a favor... Or ten," Ahri admitted, her voice still in a low whisper. "When I first joined the League, I wasn't nearly as strong or as popular as I am now. LeBlanc taught me a lot about how to fight against other Champions were regulars to the middle lane."

"So you two are like master and apprentice?" He almost whistled in awe, finding himself for the first time genuinely impressed with her. "Wow. I wouldn't think that LeBlanc would take a student who wasn't Noxian."

"She was not the most gentle teacher," her tails twitched erratically as she spoke. "But I still feel obligated to her for how much she taught me. I don't know if she feels like I've been a good student, but I don't want to be seen as a waste of her time."

"Judging by her mood after the match, I'd say she cares about you."

Ahri looked up at with him with expectant eyes. The first time he was sure she was showing what she was genuinely thinking. "Really? Do you really think so?"

"Yeah, I'd say so." Zac laughed thinking back about it. "The leaders of shadowy clandestine orders don't go around head-butting people over trivial crap. Right?"

He watched her let out a sigh, not out of sadness but relief. She leaned her head against his arm, still locked around her own. "Thank you. You don't know what it means for me to hear that."

"Yeah, no problem." He scratched the back of his head with his free hand. Now he was starting to piece together why she had become so suddenly attached to him all this time. It wasn't about him, per say, but what he had seen. "I imagine that this isn't something you can talk to other Champions from Ionia about."

"Yes," Ahri answered, in a way that made it clear she wouldn't be saying any more on the matter. The way her expression changed made it clear she had already gotten an earful from unnamed others about accepting LeBlanc's teachings. "Let's not talk about that. Please."

"Alright, fine. I get you," he said, waving his free hand in the air as if he were blowing away the touchy subject as a physical object. "But hey, sometimes you have to break a few eggs to make an omelet, right?"

"The last omelet I made didn't threaten to banish me from ever returning to my homeland," she muttered in rueful disgust, rolling her eyes as she did. "All because I wanted to choose for myself who I wanted to become like."

"If it's any comfort, I kind of know what that's like." He looked around at their surroundings just as she did, trying to note every face of every person they passed. If a champion dedicated to stealth and subterfuge like members of the Ionia Kinkou were spying on them, there was no way he would ever notice their presence. Still, something in his mind pushed him to try anyway. "When I first joined the League, a lot of different people told me what I should be doing. Talking about living up to my potential, or trying to tell me why I was born into this world. It got old real fast."

Ahri said nothing as they continued walking, and Zac took it as a silent sign that he should continue. "Maybe it's just a cynical streak in me, but I find it hard to listen to people who preach about altruism through order and balance. How can they talk about that when they let so many of their countrymen die in a war? Do they want us to believe that all of the people killed in battles were part of any large picture to maintain a notion of balance?"

He pushed open a pair of double doors in front of him, and winced from the sudden sunlight that hit his eyes as they stepped outside together. Silently he cursed the Solari, having no clue why or how but undoubtedly sure that the harsh rays above were somehow their doing. Or maybe just Leona's. Maybe Diana was onto something after all.

Still linked together they descended down the large staircase the lead up to one of the Institute's many entrances. They were certainly impressive to look at, and he remembered the impression they made on him when he had first arrived under escort to head straight to the reflection chamber. A flight of long stairs with sharp steps that were as milky white as polished marble. There was nothing drilled into them either that could distract the eye from where they started and where they led to.

From its perch in the center of the city the Institute of War was above everything. The symbolic message was blunt: anyone climbing these stairs was entering a place dedicated to a higher cause. Higher than the surrounding city below where citizens of every nation-state could be found. Higher than the cultures each nation-state's citizens brought with them. Higher than their business, their concerns, and their squabbles.

"The Ionian elders who come to the Institute all talk like they're in possession of some absolute truth." Zac found himself speaking with a foreign conviction, letting his brain run on autopilot for a little. He watched his own steps carefully, making sure that he was keeping pace with Ahri. He could only imagine how painful it would be for someone with an actual bone structure to fall down such a steep flight of stairs. "But what does it mean to be more like nature? To be worldlier like they want us to believe is right? It might be good for your own soul, but it doesn't save the lives of others who need saving. It doesn't put gold in your pocket, or put food on a table. So what good is it?"

Ahri still remained silent, her face showing no interest of continuing any of the flirtatious behavior she had sent his way before. Was she angry at him? Maybe he had overstepped some invisible line with his comments.

"You know, I never pictured you to be a cynic."

"A cynic is what an idealist calls a realist," Zac remarked back, hiding his own surprise at how he had managed to think of something quirky to say in return. He watched her face contort with irritation for only a second, and wondered if he had actually managed to beat twice in their verbal dance.

"Hmph. Spoken like a living weapon."

"...Wait, what!?"

Zac felt his own jaw drop out, completely caught off guard by her comment. But before he could say anything else or demand an explanation, Ahri let go of his arm and swatted him on his back with all nine of her tails. At the mercy of gravity he rolled all the way down the remaining stairs and landed with a wet splat at their base bellow.


	4. Unstable Matters Chapter 3: Instituting War (Part 1)

**Unstable Matters Chapter 3: Instituting of War (Part 1)**

_Human nature hates a lack of information._

_Where we can't find it, we go looking for it. In some cases, we just outright invent it._

_That was my case walking into the inner city of the Institute of War. I knew something was waiting for me. Someone. Some group. Something that involved me, others I liked, and others I didn't. Willfully ignorant, at the smell of adventure I charged into the hinterland looking for answers._

_And then I remembered that I could be running into answers I didn't want to find._

_It was stupid to assume that I would just be all right. It was stupid to walk in half-cocked. It was stupid to go in under gunned, under informed, and misunderstood. What I did was comparable to walking into the enemy team's side of the jungle without a damn clue where any member of the opposing team was. It was something someone with a level head would never do, and foolhardy only begins to scratch the surface of it._

_But since trouble was interested in finding me, maybe I never stood a chance in the first place._

_War is something easy to understand when it's written down on paper. It seems so distant and academic printed in black on white pages. Even projection recordings about battles during the Rune Wars have a cool, detached narration to them that keeps any viewer from understanding how horrible it all really is._

_This is nothing more than a sanity filter. Something to allow people to take in information and separate the numbers and accounts from the awful reality. It's why those who lead armies can do all sorts of terrible things to the enemy and their own that no sane man would think of if he had to look them in the eye before doing it. Which is the reason they don't, of course._

_Except, that is, for a few unique cases who are a part of the League of Legends._

_The idea of having so many different leaders of such tremendous character (and egos) within a weapon swing's distance of each other boggles my mind. To know that participation in the League carries such weight, that the three women contending for the rule over all of Freljord remain civil with each other when on League grounds. Or that Singed hasn't found dead one morning, the cause of death being noted as blunt force trauma and a million cuts from an oversized bladed weapon. Or that Vi and Caitlyn haven't ambushed and arrested Jinx the moment she steps on and off the Fields of Justice. Just to name a few._

_Maybe that's what I was bidding on walking like a fool into the city. I was hoping, no, relying on the power of the League to keep me safe. The League that forced all of the political powers on Valoran to accept its authority. The League that has made the terrible events of two Rune Wars a thing of the past._

_I didn't think the powers around me would wait patiently until I left the city before striking._

* * *

"Hey! Wake up! Loitering in a congested area comes with a steep fine, bud."

With the last major piece of himself slowly crawling back over to his main body, the large puddle of green slime on the ground (known as Zac) began to slowly form back into a humanoid shape. The natural cell division of his body made him more robust than people would imagine, and crippling impacts for any source were nothing but a nuisance. A little known fact was that the magic of the League made him lose small portions of himself every time he threw a punch while on Summoner's Rift. His body outside of the battlefield was considerably denser, and mostly immune to any kind of weapons like blades, bullets, and explosions. His creators really had created a robust bio-weapon of incredible potential, minus the fact that it didn't want to live as one.

Still a slick puddle at the base of the Institute's entrance stairs, Zac reformed his own head and looked up to see who was talking to him. He recognized her immediately by her short pink hair, unique style of dress, and twin massively oversized hextech gauntlets on both her hands. Looking down at him with narrowed eyes, Vi held some sort of notepad in the fingers of one hand and was filling it out with a pencil pinched between two fingers in the other. A comical sight that would have been a lot funnier if her attention wasn't being aimed at him.

"And here I thought you were better than that." Vi shook her head in disappointment as she continued scribbling onto the tiny ticket pad in between the two massive fingers of her hextech gauntlets. "But I guess everyone shows their true colors eventually."

"Hahaha. You're hilarious." Picking himself up off the ground, Zac stretched all of his arms and legs so that all of his goo was in the right places. Without the limitations of an internal circulation system or skin, it was possible some mornings to wake up with completely illogical body portions that needed to be fixed. "Where did Ahri go? How long was I out?"

"Don't know, don't care." She ripped off the ticket from her pad and thrust it at him, holding it in the air for him to take. When he made no motion to take it from her after a few seconds, she reached out and stuck it on him instead. "I hope this'll teach you a valuable lesson about respecting the law."

Taking the ticket out of his own body, he looked it over with scrutiny. It was nothing but a normal ticket, with a legal notice along the bottom noting the authority of the issuer as a representative of the sheriff's office in Piltover. The only thing he found strange about it was the neat handwriting on the form, something that shouldn't have been possible given how he had seen it being filled out.

"Hey officer, when did the sheriff's office of Piltover have jurisdiction in the Institute?"

"Like I said: don't know, don't care," Vi said, seemingly awfully smug about the whole nonsensical affair. "Oh yeah, and what's this I heard about you soliciting a prostitute in broad daylight? Do you have any shame!?"

"Prostitute!?" Zac could only stare at her like she had suddenly grown several new heads. "Who in the hell told you that!?"

"You just did," Vi grunted. "You said something about man-eating fox, right?"

Zac face-palmed with a loud wet slap. Standing up to his full height and volume, he glared at the Piltover sheriff's officer enforcer who was in the middle of writing him another ticket. "You can't be serious."

"I'm always serious about enforcing the law, bub." Tearing off his second ticket, she reached out and placed it into the palm of his hand before closing his own fist around it. "But I'll give you a chance to think about your actions. Come and see me later if you get a second."

"You can't be serious," Zac said again, pulling the wet ticket dripping his own green goo out from inside of his hand. But before Vi could answer, a loud shout interrupted them both.

"VI! Stop mucking about and hurry up! We've got a job to do!"

Looking over the pink haired officer, Zac could make out the familiar clothing of Piltover's sheriff waving to them both down the main street leading into the interior of the city. Still wearing her trademark goofily oversized hat, brown boots, and skimpy striped dress, his question had been answered as to whether or not Caitlyn actually went about patrolling and solving crimes in the same gear she wore on Summoner's Rift. He was in no position to talk since he never wore anything at all, but didn't it make any sense to wear something that provided little to no protection against so many other champions who often wore armor all of the time.

"Alright, alright! I'm coming!" Vi shouted back, waving a massive fist in the air before turning around at Zac again. "Whelp, duty calls. Don't let me catch you again, you hear me kid?"

"Yeah, sure," he muttered watching her go, "and I'll remember to steal your wraiths next time I see you."

Now alone once again, Zac felt his stomach grumble. A sore reminder of what could have been if he had just been a little kinder and kept his mouth shut. With the vast city in front of him and the Institute of War behind him, he sighed and sat back down on the base of the stairs he had descended from. In one afternoon he had killed someone unnecessarily, been solicited for the role of support, yelled at for not being a good enough jungler, received the flirtations one of the most popular champions in the League, and rejected by said champion before being abandoned like trash.

All and all, a pretty peaceful afternoon by normal standards.

He had long since realized that there were no coincidences to be had, not on Institute grounds where the leaders of every city state were in constant communication with their highest ranking subordinates. Part of his hostility toward Ahri, deserved or not, had been made worse after learning that she was friends with both the leadership of Ionia and the Matron of the Black Rose Society. Both groups were more than willing to use alternative methods to get what they wanted, which was a business he wanted nothing to do with at all. It was rare that champions were admitted into the League stayed neutral and unaffiliated with the participating city states, but his neutrality was something he was proud of and wanted to keep for as long as possible.

Doing the right thing didn't require the permission of any higher authority. At least not in his eyes it didn't.

"...Hey, is Fat Hands gone?"

Zac jumped to his feet, turning around to see one of the new terrors of the League skip down the stairs behind him heading his way. At her sides were her trusted hextech minigun ("Pow-Pow") and electro pistol, and over her shoulder her rocket launcher ("Fishbone") loaded and ready to go. Looking up at him innocently when she reached him, Jinx flashed him a smile in the same way she always did before giving other champions bellies full of hot lead.

"Where did you come from?" he asked in spite of himself.

"I dunno. Here and there, and a little bit of everywhere." Jinx laughed at her own response, before taking a step back from him in fear. "Wait, you're not gonna' go rat me out to Fat Hands and the Hat Lady, right!? Those jerks in the purple robes said I'm not allowed to leave the Institute without their permission! Can you believe that!?"

Zac almost laughed, not used to hearing the most senior Summoners in the Institute referred to in such a blunt manner. He scratched his head in thought, honestly considering her question. Normally someone like Jinx running around freely would be a concern, but it wasn't his job to oversee other Champions (and definitely not on an empty stomach).

After a tense moment of consideration, Zac put both of his thumbs into his mouth and began inflating his own arms. Her eyes widened in awe when both of his hands started to take the shape of Vi's own hextech gauntlets with gauges, steel plates, gears, and everything.

"Don't know, don't care," Zac said, imitating Vi's voice and tone from before. "Besides, the Institute is neutral ground, right? I don't think they can arrest you here."

Jinx broke out into a burst of laughter, rolling on the ground and kicking her legs wildly in the air from his ad-libbed impersonation. After a little she jumped up from the floor and wiped a tear from her eye.

"Hehe, haha! You know, you may be a hideous green crime against nature, but you're totally a bro on the inside! I knew it!" She clapped her hands together before beginning to rub them together behind a growing maniacal grin. "Hey, do you like shooting things? I LOVE shooting things. But you? You look like someone that could carry his weight in ammunition. Have you ever tried being a Support? I'll let you use Fishbone or Pow-Pow when I'm not!"

"Sorry, not my thing." Zac shook his head, a feeling of deja vu passing through him. "I don't like using weapons, and I'm pretty bad at babysitting."

"Yeah, I thought the same thing for a while." Jinx patted her minigun and rocket launcher lovingly. "But then I remembered that I can't blow up stuff with my fists, so I needed to improvise. Ya' get me?"

"Yeah, I get you," Zac said, not sure he was comfortable with getting to know the violent psychotic young woman next to him better. "Some days I wonder if I should start using something other than my fists on the Rift."

"Exactly! You and me, we're totally on the same wavelength here. You dig? I dig. I dig with hexplosives! Sooo... between you and me, do you know if there's any place around here a girl can get her hand on some destructive hardware? You know, bombs, bullets, shells, the whole shebang? All I can find are stupid blacksmith shops. And trust me, I've already thought of getting a gun that shoots swords. It won't work."

Thinking over her question, he rubbed his chin in thought.

"Have you considered a gun that shoots smaller guns?"

"Yeah, but it didn't work either." Jinx crossed her arms in the shape of an X and shook her head. "It worked at first, but then people started picking up the guns I shot at them and started shooting back at me. That wasn't fun at all."

"Then have you considered a gun that shoots the cartridge and bullet?" he offered. "Your rocket launcher shoots the whole rocket. If Pow-Pow could do that, it would be something like sixty five percent more bullet per bullet."

"That," she gasped, her eyes growing as wide as dinner plates with the idea hitting her in full, "is genius! I MUST have it! YES! YESYESYESYES!"

With the same burst of energy he had seen her take off in after securing a kill, Jinx turned around and ran back into the Institute, almost breaking down the doors with a loud crash in her haste.

 _And that is my unsung good deed for the da_ y, Zac thought to himself as he started walking to enter the city. But after taking a few steps, he stopped himself remembering the two tickets in his hand. He frowned at the thought of having to actually pay a fine to the city of Piltover for something he was pretty sure Vi had made up on the spot. Looking over the first ticket, he read over the fine print denoting the large amount of legal jargon backing issuer as a representative of the sheriff's office of Piltover.

But when he glanced over at the second ticket…

_Go to Sinful Succulence. Ask for the baker's special. Then ask her why._

"What on Runeterra?" Zac mouthed out loud.

He looked the second ticket over again, remembering how Vi had written both of them from the same pad right in front of him. The first ticket given to him was definitely some kind of legal document printed and used by the sheriff's office of Piltover. The second didn't even match the dimensions of the first, coming from some other notepad or book, and it surprised him that he hadn't noticed earlier. Had the entire thing been some kind of ruse to hide this second message? And if so, why?

Yeah... this is a setup if I've ever seen one.

But without warning, in a blink of an eye the note Vi had written for him was gone. Snatched right out of his own hands by a diving feathered blue blur that immediately pulled up after and flew off into the city ahead of him.

"HEY!" Zac shook himself out his own stupor, and began chasing after Valor running into the city. But the blue Demacian eagle had more than a small head start from him, and he was quickly losing sight of him amongst the tall spiraling buildings of the inner city.

Stopping his chase to catch his breath from his own sudden sprint, he ran his hand over his face again and groaned. If there was a conspiracy involving him circulating around the Institute, it would now include the champions from Demacia as well. There was no way Quinn's partner would swoop down and steal something from him by coincidence, and more than likely she had probably ordered him to do so from some place unseen. And if some as high profile as Quinn had been given the task of spying on him, the original orders had likely come from the prince of Demacia himself.

Great, just what I need. Zac scratched his head, and looked up toward the heavens. The sky above remained beautifully clear, a teasing reminder of what had once been a promising afternoon away from the chaos of Summoner's Rift, the Twisted Treeline, Howling Abyss, and Crystal Scar.

Tired, frustrated, and a little confused, he threw his arms up in the air in aggravation.

"Alright! Fine! I'll go! Because why the hell not!"

It would only make things worse if he ignored it, he reasoned. But no matter what he told himself, he knew better that vague self-assurances weren't any assurance against League caliber trouble. Ignoring the stares of fear and curiosity that were coming his way from people all around him, he jammed his hands into his sides to make it look as if he had pockets to put them into. Hell, if trouble was going to find him at least he could try to avoid starting anything with anyone else who was looking for the same.

_Alright, if I were champion on a special assignment to spy on someone, what would I do next?_

For the second time in the same day he looked around himself as he kept walking. And for the second time also, he was reminded of how woefully under prepared he was to try and stand up to the champions of Valoran's city-states in something other than a straight fight. If a lifetime's worth of skills about the art of counter-espionage were condensed into a book, he couldn't even imagine what the introduction would look like. Considering his repeated proximity to them on and off the Fields of Justice, it wouldn't make sense for them to be spying on him without the use of an elaborate disguise or advanced magics.

"Looking for someone?"

Or, they could be hiding in plain sight waiting for him to walk into them.

Kicking her blue-booted legs against the brick wall she was perched on, Luxanna Crownguard adjusted the oversized witch's cap on her head and looked down at him with a disarming smile. The eccentric blue sorceress costume may have been a comical sight to some, but he knew from personal experience that the costumes worn by many other champions didn't impede their ability to tear him limb from limb. Despite her young age and innocent appearance, the Lady of Luminosity was no exception.

"Were you expecting someone else?" she asked curiously, still smiling down at him.

"No, it's not that." Zac resisted the urge to face palm for the second time in the afternoon, the irony of his situation hitting him. "Don't ask. Just forget about it."

"Hmm, if you say so. Good afternoon to you, by the way."

"Yeah, same to you," Zac answered back politely. His mind drifted toward the differences between the blonde teenager and nine-tailed fox when they both gave him the same expression. A disarming smile from a scheming spy compared to a predatory seductress. "So, how long have you been following me?" he asked bluntly.

Her disarming smile remained, his question less interrogative and threatening than what she was used to hearing as one of Demacia's top spies.

"Following?" She blinked in surprise at the accusation. "What makes you think that?"

"I noticed a little bit of sweat on your brow. That wouldn't be because you've been tailing me after I took off after Valor, right?"

As he expected of the professional the teenage spy she didn't answer at first, choosing instead to simply laugh off his accusation with a shrill girlish giggle. He watched her smoothly run a hand over her face and push back some of her stray locks, cleverly wiping her forehead she did. "It's just a hot day out, that's all. You shouldn't be so paranoid."

"Well excuse me," Zac said with rueful dissatisfaction dripping from his voice. "Because my day, so far, has been one giant chain of champions messing around with me for unspoken reasons."

"Well in that case, shall I cut to the chase?" she offered suddenly.

Taken a little off guard by her sudden cooperation, he nodded appreciatively. "Uh... yeah. Please, if you don't mind."

Zac watched her hop off of the brick wall ledge, her iconic weapon catching her like a broomstick on the way down and dropping her off closer to the ground. Moving by some power unseen, the magic baton then circled around her before resting against her back in the same position he had seen many swordsmen carry their own weapons. Patting her skirt down from any dust or dirt picked up, she motioned for him to follow her as she began walking deeper into the city.

"Do you know why I'm here?"

He shrugged indifferently, deciding to follow after her. "Maybe. Is it the same reason Quinn and Valor are following me as well?"

"Not exactly," Lux shook her head, walking at a slow enough pace where they walk alongside each other and talk at the same time. "I'm here to ask a personal favor, actually."

"And that would be?"

"Demacia respects the independence of champions who choose to remain neutral in politics outside of the League," she began to explain. Listening to her go on, he couldn't help but wonder how much time someone had spent studying him and writing a speech tailored to convince him. Did Luxanna do it herself, or did someone from the Demacian military just give it to her? "As I'm sure you know, other city-states are not as respectful of personal boundaries."

"So this has to do with Noxus," Zac said flatly, remembering the match from earlier in the day. His thoughts drifted to Ahri as well, but he pushed them aside to focus on the conversation he was holding. "I've fought alongside and against them plenty of times. Why is today any different?"

"I can't go into detail, but there's been a change in thought over their high command's approach to the League."

"Well that sounds foreboding," he remarked dryly, trying to not let his imagination wander. But coming from a famous member of the Crownguard family, he had to wonder whether or not she was exaggerating. "But how does that affect me?"

"I'm sure you know that there are many champions in the League with a strong grudge against Noxus for their crimes across Runeterra," Lux continued to explain. "Until recently the high command of Noxus saw the League as a means to justify their conquests. The invasion of Ionia was only contested after the occupation, and the ongoing barbarian pacification campaign in the north continues every day."

"I understand what you're saying, but I still don't see how it involves me," Zac stated bluntly. "Unless you're going to tell me that Noxus wants to recruit me into their champion pool?"

"That's what we would like to see not happen." Stopping for a moment in front of a shop stall along the road, he watched her pick two bright red apples out of a stacked pile and hand several gold pieces over to the shop's owner as payment. She took a large bite out of the first one, greedily sucking up any juice that leaked out from the tender flesh of the fruit as she did.

After a few more bites, she licked her lips clean and continued. "Most of the champions that come from Noxus have seen their popularity decline in recent months. Swain considers the success of Noxian champions in the League to be a crucial part of his influence over the high command back at his home. We're concerned that if he can't make his current roster more efficient, then he'll start looking outward for new help."

"And that involves me." Zac remained silent as they continued walking together, his mind processing all of the information that had been suddenly dumped on him. "I guess it's flattering that they would consider me, but I can't say I like the idea of being under a Noxian microscope."

"That's all I wanted to hear, really. In an ideal world, I'd love to know that you gave Swain and LeBlanc a piece of your mind about their character when you eventually meet them. With some very select words too, of course. But since we know that won't be happening, I would like your word that you won't be taken in by whatever they have to say."

"Do I really look like someone who would be fighting under a Noxian banner proudly?" he felt compelled to ask just from how serious she was being with him.

"Of course not, but a lot of people back in my home would never understand that." Lux sighed despondently, frowning as she did. "Please don't take it personally that we had to have this conversation. If it means anything, Prince Jarvan told them it was pointless."

"Yeah, well... don't worry about it," Zac said. "I've gotten used to a lot of people asking me things and making assumptions over the recent months. I appreciate you being upfront with me."

Noxians. If Ezreal were with him, he could only imagine the choice words the Prodigal Explorer would have come up with to describe them. Words that he probably didn't even know the meanings of. Thinking more about it, it wasn't bad news per say, but he doubted that it would be as simple as politely declining their offer to join their ranks if he were offered. After all, when Noxians focused its attention on something it wanted, he didn't envy those tasked with stopping them.

"Well, we're here."

"...Huh?"

Stopping and looking around, Zac realized to his own surprise that Luxanna had led him right to where he had wanted to go before he had started following her. Both of them were standing outside of a small bakery, with the words Sinful Succulence painted in regal black lettering onto a large front window. The same window was being blocked by a velvet curtain on the inside, which allowed limited viewing from the street into the interior of the shop. Looking it over with a careful eye, he found himself surprised at how humble the exterior of the shop was considering its infamous owner. He then wondered how many people from across Valoran had stopped by out of curiosity, not knowing what they were walking into.

"Sinful Succulence, right? Be sure to say hello to Ahri for me."

He groaned at the reminder of what could have been, wanting to put it as far behind him as possible. Even the slightest chance of running in the nine-tailed fox inside of the shop was completely killing his appetite for a snack.

"...Thanks. But how did you know I was looking for this place?"

"I have my ways." Luxanna continued walking on without him. "It also helps that you and Ahri were pretty loud back in the Institute. You should work on that, for the future."

"Oh. Right," he muttered. His suspicions from before about being tailed and spied on now confirmed. But standing outside of his destination, he felt a nudging tug on the tip of his mind. Almost as if he were forgetting something.

"Wait... aren't you forgetting something? What did you say before?"

"Hmm?" Lux turned around, her lips pursed together tightly.

"You said you had a personal favor to ask me, right? I would have thought that warning me about problems in my future is more of a favor for me."

"O-oh, well..." Lux turned back around and away from him, fidgeting a bit uncomfortably. The first time she had done so while talking to him, which he hadn't failed to notice.

"I, um, have a bit of an appointment to keep later today, and I was told that I needed to keep tabs on you before and after you went inside. So... would you mind not doing anything drastic that would need to be reported right away?"

"An appointment, huh? Riiight." Zac rubbed his chin in thought, grinning in amusement at reading between the lines about her behavior. "So who's the lucky guy? Or gal?"

"NO! It's nothing like that!" Lux nearly shouted, before catching herself and lowering her voice. She pulled her hat tighter over her head, turning away from him in embarrassment when he chuckled at her reaction. "Oooh, wipe that stupid grin off of your face! It's not like that, really."

"Yeah, yeah." He laughed one more time, waving goodbye to her as he reached for the door handle to let himself in. "Say hello to Ezreal for me, will you?"

"It's not like that!" he heard her shout at him one more time, before disappearing into thin air in less than a second from her magic bending the light around her.

Taking a second to marvel at how effortlessly she had vanished, Zac shook his head and opened the door to walk inside. Middle lane ganks, irate leaders, flirtatious friends, two traffic tickets, a teenage spy, an impending evil job offer, all on an empty stomach in one afternoon.

But judging by the smells of what lay ahead; maybe things wouldn't be so bad after all.


	5. Unstable Matters Chapter 4: Instituting War (Part 2)

**Unstable Matters Chapter 4: Instituting War (Part 2)**

"Sister, there's a package for you."

Running a tower through her crimson hair, Katarina Du Couteau watched her younger sister slither past her dropping off a small booklet onto a nearby table as she did. Outside of the windows of their shared room the sun was beginning to peak, reflecting into the tinted windows and creating shadows that played tricks on amateur eyes. Shivering from the cool air tickling her skin after stepping out from the shower, she wrapped the wet towel around her neck loosely before walking over to pick up the pamphlet from where Cassiopeia had left it. Rolling up the sleeves of her bathrobe, Kat scanned the first few pages loosely before beginning to flip through the rest.

"From the High Command," Cassiopeia explained, before her elder sister asked. "There are some changes to Summoner masteries and runes upcoming as well as their spells."

"I'm aware," Kat said, walking while still reading and sitting down onto the large couch in the center of their shared room. Allowing herself to relax for a moment, she sunk back into the plush cushions and crossed her legs absent mindedly. Even with her scheduled match on Summoner's Rift cancelled early, there were other duties she had to attend as part of being one of the highest ranking Noxian champions in the League. Now done for the day, her assigned room was one of the few places she could let her guard down and relax. The raw number of protective enchantments around her made their room a small fortress in the largest one on Runeterra.

"Do you remember what Swain asked you to do today?"

"Yes, I've already gone through the roster he sent me. All of them are worthless."

"Your standards are too high sister," Cass chastised, rolling her eyes in amusement as she did. "You can't expect Crimson Elite recruits to be as strong as you or Talon."

"No, Swain's are too low," Kat countered, her eyes still fixated on the papers in her hand. "It's bad enough that damned deserter is getting popular with Summoners. Now he has me digging through trash to find gold."

"Everyone has to start somewhere."

"Maybe. But the League is no place for new recruits."

Her conflicting body language; tense but relieved. A bite in her tone from no provocation. Words spoken with a touch of agitation, and the overzealous passion of their speaker. Cassiopeia's years of seducing and prying secrets from nobility and dignitaries alike had taught her a lot. In many ways she was a better judge of character than her elder sister, and for all of Katarina's years being an assassin on special assignments away from home, Cassiopeia could still read her like an open book. There was something more important on her mind than the busywork Swain sent her, and more haunting than the looming shadow of the Du Couteau estate passed down to her with their father's disappearance.

Even while resting at her home away from home in the Institute, she could feel a headache coming on just thinking about the Kalamanda incident. Real fighting between Demacian and Noxian forces. Swain's rise to power. The fall of the old Noxian military cabinet. The fallout alone had rocked the Institute of War in more ways than one, and the League found its autonomous authority under question for the first time since its founding. Not that the city-states on Valoran hadn't had their suspicions in the first place, but human paranoia could grow exponentially once given the smallest taste of confirmation bias.

If having to pick a side during a military upheaval weren't enough, the worst part had come with their father's disappearance and inheritance that followed. With no male heirs to the family name, it would be expected of both Du Couteau sisters to retire from their services and maintain their family line. But with both sisters working as champion representatives, removing them from their active duty was unthinkable. So too, the idea of an arranged marriage with another prominent Noxian house would only end in disaster. Swain had turned a blind eye to the aforementioned issues in return for their continued loyalty, but in her experience unspoken promises were fragile ones at best. The entire mess was something both sisters had been avoiding dealing with, maybe in the vain hope that their father would turn up alive when the time was right. Cassiopeia knew that it was a naive sentimentality to hold onto, and she knew better too than to assume her older sister was doing the same.

Still, for all of their time spent apart in their youth they had grown closer as kin. Sisters, and daughters of Noxus. In their youth they had looked at each other with disdain, like all siblings do when rivaling for the adoration and affection of a parent. But no longer. They were both part of something bigger, and more important than anything dreamt up in their youth.

The Sinister Blade was tough, but not infallible.

"Tea?" Cassiopeia offered, taking a small empty cup from a set on a silver tray on the table between them.

"No rest for the wicked, Cass," said Katarina, not even glancing at the empty cup offered to her by her sister. Cassiopeia frowned, her plan slightly derailed by her elder sister's coolly distanced attitude. But like a true Du Couteau, resistance only spurned her to try harder. She would find out what she wanted to know, one way or another.

"I heard that Swain is calling for another general meeting to discuss the developments in Freljord. Will you be attending?"

"No. It doesn't matter who comes out on top in their little civil war. All of Valoran will be ours in time."

"Hah hah," Cass couldn't help but laugh lightly. Although never short on patriotism, her sister was hardly the type to make such grandiose statements. Was it possible that she wanted to vent, and a more direct approach would work after all? "You sounded like the old buzzard for a moment. So tell me, what has you in such deep thought? Hmm?"

"It's that renegade bio-weapon from Zaun." She almost wanted to interrupt her sister and ask which one, considering the number of monstrosities originating from the mad science city-state seemed to climb every day. "The green one. Singed is interested in him, and I was told that Zaun hasn't been able to replicate whatever they did to create him."

"Ahh, yes. Boys and their toys," Cass remarked. With the increasing number of Noxian battlefronts, the amount of weapons projects from Zaun had increased as well. She had heard stories of the metal war machines and nightmarish creatures breed on commission for combat, but like everything in war and politics, she could imagine the few successes were being used to cover for countless failures. "Let me guess; has the prestigious honor of breaking and entering in his dorm like gutter trash been given to you?"

"Hardly," Kat scoffed, and Cass wondered if that meant she was going to convince Talon to do it for her. "They want me to spy on him and try to convince him to fight for us."

"They make it sound so easy, don't they?"

"He's an overgrown child in the body of a freakishly durable monster. Don't get me started on his narrow little views of the world."

"It can't be that bad, can it? How naive can you be when you're born into the world as a weapon?"

"I prefer my weapons mute." Reaching into the folded sleeves of her bathrobe, Katarina pulled one of her custom throwing daggers out. Cassiopeia almost rolled her eyes at the sight, since she often wondered if her older sister was truly paranoid enough to feel the need to have a weapon within reach at every moment in her life. "Silent. Obedient. Unquestioning."

"Don't forget sharp," Cass remarked dryly, knowing that Kat was imagining the dagger in her hand flying in the air and hitting some poor fool dead between the eyes. Once. Twice. Maybe a hundred times even.

"Now then..."

Still clad only in her bathrobe, Cassiopeia watched her older sister lick her lips as she let an evil grin spread from ear to ear. Disappearing in a magic flash from one of her assassination techniques, she reappeared landing nimbly in front of a large wooden wardrobe. Pulling on both doors at the same time, she stepped back as the heavy doors swung open and revealed a cache collection of weapons of all kinds and shapes. A small sample of everything imaginable from custom forged blades to lethal hextech devices lay and hung on every drawer or panel within.

From behind her Cassiopeia simply sighed, pouring herself a cup of tea and taking a sip. Couldn't their father have instilled a little subtlety when honing her sister's killer instinct? Whatever she was thinking, it would probably take two teams of elite Noxian Summoners to stop her now. One group to convince her to stop, and the other group to carry the bodies of the first that had failed.

Still smiling like a fiend, Katarina caressed the surface of a custom crafted Bilgewater cutlass with a delicate touch.

"Who wants to have some fun?"

* * *

Opening the door and stepping inside, Zac heard the sound of bells ringing hung above the door frame before he bumped his head into them from his own height. He hadn't been expecting too much, or rather, he hadn't known what to expect at all since rumors around the League were never trustworthy to begin with. But at a quick glance around the interior of Sinful Succulence was a lot more casual than he had imagined. Simple interior furnishing like any other restaurant in the city surrounding the Institute of War, with nothing that would make it clear that the place was owned and managed by a powerful dark angel from another dimension.

But best of all, there were no other champions from the League in sight.

Except for the one that owned the place, of course.

"Come in and take a seat anywhere," Morgana said, her back turned to him as she continued to work behind the long serving counter placed between two glass refrigerator cases displaying her wares. "It doesn't matter where. I'll be with you in a moment."

Mustering up his courage to continue walking into the lioness' den, Zac silently walked in and seated himself on one of the fixed chairs barely managing to squeeze his large legs underneath the counter. The seat underneath was too small as well, making for an awkward picture for anyone who was going to walk into the bakery after him. Not that giant humanoid jelly monsters were common in the Institute anyway.

_Go to Sinful Succulence. Ask for the baker's special. Then ask her why._

The note Vi had slipped him before repeated itself in his mind. It was expected that champions with different backgrounds but similar goals would collude with each other outside the Fields of Justice, but what connection could Morgana have with Piltover? Or was it something more secretive, and something that Caitlyn or any other Piltover champions knew about? Or maybe he was looking at it the wrong way, and this was just about something else?

His thoughts were interrupted suddenly by the gentle sound of a cup being placed down in front of him. Looking up, he met eyes with Morgana, who looked very different from her normal attire she donned when fighting in the League. Her outfit was almost identical to the strange baker's ensemble she sometimes wore, and even the iconic black lightning bolt tattoo over her left eye was gone with most of the black paint on her face.

"It's on the house, for a first time customer," she explained, after watching him look at the drink she had served him in confusion. "My special blend. I've yet to serve any mortal who can't appreciate its complexity and depth of flavor."

Zac resisted the urge to cringe at the substance before him, which had the color and texture of the ground after Morgana used her signature Tainted Soil spell. Not only that, but the dark brew seemed to be bubbling in its own with a consistency of soft asphalt.

"It tastes better than it looks," Morgana said, smirking in amusement from his hesitation. "Don't be a child."

"Don't push me," Zac muttered, looking down at the concoction with mixed feelings. Mustering up his courage after a few seconds, he pinched the cup's handles with his two fingers and brought it up to his jaw for a taste. To his pleasant surprise, whatever was going down his mouth and into his gullet was a lot more tolerable in taste than it was in appearance. After taking another sip, he placed the cup back down onto the white china saucer gently.

"Now that that's out of the way, I don't believe we've met before. Outside of the Rift, that is." Morgana inspected him from her side of the counter curiously. "And where are you from?"

"I don't represent any city-state, if that's what you mean." Zac took the last sip of his brew, setting the cup back down in its saucer gently. "I was created at Zaun, but I'm here fighting for my own reasons."

"From Zaun, hmm? You don't look or sound like anything from the Void. Yes... I see it now." Reaching out with the tea kettle in her hands, she slowly refilled his cup to the brim with another helping of the greasy mystery brew. With the kettle now empty, she then took it and placed it back onto a nearby rune inscribed stone slab behind the counter. Pulling out a mixture of ingredients all foreign to him, she took a pinch of some and a handful of others and sprinkled them into the kettle after refilling it with water from a nearby sink. "But enough about that. You don't seem like the type who socializes a lot, so what brings you to my humble shop? Going around and exploring the Institute? Or did you hear the rumors and decided to investigate at your own peril?"

"Something like that," Zac said, pushing aside his memories of earlier events in the day. "I've been getting a lot of attention lately, and I can't say I like it."

"Welcome to the club." Morgana let out a rich laugh before taking the connoisseur cap off of her head and letting her deep black hair run down her back. Brushing some stray locks out from her face, she looked at him with an evil grin. "Anyone told you to look out for Morello yet?"

"What? Who?"

"You know that arcane tomb they sell in the shop? The morellonomicon?" He nodded dumbly, vaguely remembering the strange book since he rarely had any Summoners purchase items that enhanced the power of his abilities. "They say it's named after some high ranked official who works behind the scenes. The man who's responsible for measuring and 'balancing' what our powers do on Summoner's Rift. If you become too friendly with other champions, you'll be made useless to keep the League's roster balanced."

"Sorry, but I don't believe in ghost stories. Aren't there enough monsters in the League already?"

Morgana chuckled mirthfully. "That's what they all say. You'll see."

Zac said nothing, and absent-mindedly took a sip of the second cup she had served him. Taking it in much more slowly he could taste some vague flavors; some bitter and some sweet in the steaming self-bubbling brew. He looked up at the clock on the wall, unsure of what hours Morgana worked until or when he would have to politely leave himself. There wasn't anything he had to do per se, even if the bakery was empty, but he didn't want to overstay his welcome either. But seeing that they were alone, he wondered if this was the time meant for him to ask what had been on his mind ever since Ahri attached herself to him. Hell, maybe Morgana was even expecting it.

"...Can I ask you something personal?"

"That depends. Are you willing to pay a price in blood for being too nosey?"

"If you don't mind green goo instead, I guess so." Zac shrugged. Watching her continue to clean behind the small counter in silence, he swallowed his fears and looked down into what she had served him. He could see little bits and fragments of something floating in it, which he severely doubted were just regular herbs and spices for flavoring. In hindsight maybe he had accepted her generosity a little too graciously trying to be polite. "I think you can see this one coming, but why a bakery?"

"Well, why not?" He saw her flash a wicked grin from the side of her face, but he decided to press on.

"Oh come on," he groaned. To his surprise, she laughed lightly at his reaction. "Ahri told me that you're not like what you want people to believe. So now I want to know why."

"Ahri, hmm? She told you that much did she?" Morgana's brow furrowed in annoyance as she turned back around to face him, putting down the cleaning rag in her hands onto the counter with a wet smack. "I'll have to remember to cut her loose tongue out sometime."

"Just as long as you don't tell her I told you."

"Now, now. That's not very gentlemanly, throwing her under a cart like that."

"Yeah, well, she hasn't exactly been kind to me either. And you still haven't answered my question."

"Hmph." Letting out a grunt, Morgana turned around and reached underneath the counter on her side. Pulling out a chair from a place unseen on his end, she placed it down across from him on her own end and sat down on it. Once sitting she patted down her apron and dress underneath it, and he watched an abundance of flour and other powdered residue come off in small smoky clouds. "Be warned; it's a long story, and I'll only warn you once. If I think you're getting bored in the middle of it, I'll send you back to the Institute's Summoners in four pieces."

He nodded silently, knowing that the Fallen Angel had all the powers needed to keep her promise. Seeing that he seemed content with waiting and listening, Morgana reached over and ran her fingers across the rune inscribed heating stones to deactivate the enchantment.

"Tell me, what do you think about the trade of being a baker? What a baker does? Has to live for? What comes to your mind first?"

"I don't know," Zac answered frankly, after thinking for a moment. The more he thought about it, sitting quietly in the cafe belonging to a dark immortal angel from another dimension, he didn't understand anything. He didn't understand what she was getting at, he didn't understand why he had been told to come to where he was, and he had no clue why he had even bothered to listen to any of the other champions he had met earlier in the day. Hell, he didn't even know what he was drinking and that was a concerning matter all to itself.

"It's simple; a baker is someone who is at the forefront of any civilization," Morgana said, gesturing to her store around her. "In any developed society or culture, you will always find people with a trade like the humble baker."

Without warning, several dark tendrils shot out from underneath her seat and began snapping and flailing around her like wild snakes. By some degree of self-control he never knew he possessed, Zac remained in his seat without even uttering a word of surprise. He recognized the magical phenomenon as the same type of magic Morgana used in many of her spells and abilities, and after a few more seconds of wild flailing the arms settled down and began picking up the cleaning where their master had stopped.

"My generation was raised on stories from our grandfathers and grandmothers; stories about how terrible things were in the past compared to the present," Morgana continued. "In the time before my sister and I became figureheads in our respective factions, a great migration project was undertaken by our people to try and alleviate our burgeoning immortal population."

"A great migration? How big?"

"Bigger than anyone from Runeterra could ever imagine. You'll just have to take my word for it."

He watched two of the tendril arms pour a cup of tea for their master, gingerly placing it in her open palm a delicate touch.

"My sister will have you believe that the angels sent to live in their new world viewed their pilgrimage as a noble cause. Maybe some certainly did." He watched her eyes glaze over, the full weight of her tale resting on surface of her mind and on the tip of her tongue. Around them both, her magic continued to work on its own tidying up the areas around them with no visible effort of Morgana's to control it. "But in reality they were sent because others didn't want to go. Our ruling class didn't want to give up the comfortable lives they had scraped together over centuries."

"But it sounds like it all began out of good intentions," he ventured to suggest. To his surprise, she simply nodded silently in agreement.

"Perhaps. As time went on, my kind formed a new civilization out in the depths of a void. Over generations, we built an entirely separate world from our original homes, and with it a new culture with its own customs separate from our ancestors. But the angels from our original homeland, with their souls weighed down by archaic traditions, would not let my kin live free and independent from the old world. Seeing their plight, I refused to close my heart and accept my elder sister's offer to assist her as a Judicator governing over those angels."

Morgana looked outside, and he followed her gaze to the blazing sun in the sky that had reached its peak and was now descending. Then he noticed that the front sign that had caught his eye earlier had been turned around at some point, signaling to everyone walking past that the cafe was now closed.

"Eventually, as you've no doubt heard, war broke out. A war unlike any in our own history, never mind Runeterra's. It was so devastating and in such a short period of time, that it could only be considered fiction to the people of this world. Half our populations, from both sides, dead over the course of one year's time. Since then, we have been in an uneasy stalemate from the Institute of War's assistance," she finished simply.

Zac found himself looking down at his drink, his mind and body stiff with a numbing silence. Half dead? In only a year's time? When both sides had separated in the first place because of overpopulation issues larger than Runeterra could ever experience? He wanted to say something, but couldn't even begin to think of the words. Was it possible that she was just playing him for a fool, and spinning him a shocking tale for her own entertainment? The casual seriousness in which she had told her tale made him wonder, but then again, if she were a senior leader of her respective faction perhaps her heart had already become accustomed to devastating hardships.

"Death in my world is not the same as this one," she explained, as if she were reading his mind. "We angels cannot truly die. After our physical forms are destroyed, our souls repossess another body being born into the world. It is possible for some of us to have memories of our former lives, but the process of being raised in the delicate stages of infancy usually overwrites any previous memories."

"Then... how did your world become overpopulated?"

"Well, when two angels really love each other," she began, rolling her eyes as she did. He groaned, realizing his own gaff too late. Ignoring his response and only smirking from his reaction, she dropped her mocking behavior and decided to continue. "It is possible for angels to divide their souls during pregnancy, to form a new soul from two different angels. There was never a need for any laws or regulations regarding this until only very recently in our history."

He scratched his chin, taking in all of what she told him so far.

"I bet that Kayle doesn't agree with you on stuff like that too."

"You don't know the half of it." Morgana frowned, scowling bitterly and taking a sip of her tea. When one of the black tendrils reached over, she passed the cup back to it. "You know, you're asking some very interesting questions for a living weapon."

"I don't like to think of myself as one," he answered almost too readily. He was used to defying expectation his entire life, but it still didn't make it any less of an annoyance when he had to. "And even if I was, there are plenty of soldiers here who can listen and talk all the same."

"You overestimate them. They've joined the League to fight, not to negotiate." Laughing as if she were keeping a malicious secret from him, she stood up from her seat. "I wonder how much longer your precious League will last. How long will your city states participate in this farce before breaking down to total war?"

"Long enough that it will never happen," Zac said firmly with a strange unfounded confidence. "I don't know why those eggheads keep a lot of monsters locked up in the Institute. The way I see it; if monstrosities like Nocturne and Fiddlesticks can be kept under control, than a bunch of violent patriotic loons from Valoran can be too."

Morgana frowned disapprovingly at him. "Emotions are not something that can be so easily tamed, boy. Say what you want, but do not be so naive as to believe that sins can simply be attracted to a single point and suppressed."

"Yeah? Fine, and what would you get out of it?" he felt the need to ask in retort, trying to audibly match her own conviction with his own. "What would you do if the Institute just disappeared one night? What does it matter to you if our world goes to hell and back?"

"My kin has mastery of forces beyond human comprehension." To back her own words, he watched her begin to channel tiny wisps of magic in the palm of one of her hands. Like a master puppeteer a small smoky version of herself danced in a circle before vanishing in another puff of inky smoke. "It would not be so difficult a task to clean up the ruins of this world from the kind of damage it sustained during your fabled Rune Wars. Coincidentally with the death of this world, my own would probably find peace."

Zac swallowed the rest of his drink calmly.

"...You want me to believe that both you and your sister, if our world were to end, would invade the ruins our world and claim it for yourselves?"

"Believe what you want to believe." Morgana's answer was so neutral in emotion that he couldn't help but wonder if she was telling the truth. "You've no reason to worry about your future when you've so much to do in the present."

"And what do you know about that?" he dared to ask. The fear and anxiety from when he had stood outside of the hybrid bakery and cafe was suddenly coming back to haunt him with every answer she was giving him. The entire day so far had felt like he was being led from one place to another, and not by coincidence. The only irregularity that still made no sense was why so many different champions who had no relationship to each other would all want something from him on the same day.

"How long are you going to pretend that you're just here to fight for what you believe in? You're going to have to pick a side eventually. Everyone does."

"As long as I have the right to choose, I'll choose to do what I want for who I want. Even if I choose to do nothing."

"Threatening inaction in stubborn defiance? How naive. Some people may be off put by your appearance, but your motives are like any other good-intentioned soul."

Morgana stood up, her magic breaking down into into an inky mist and disappearing before his eyes. She took her hat from her lap and put it back on, a sign to him that their conversation was over whether he wanted it to be or not.

"Kalamanda and Freljord were just the beginning of a new age. There will be many conflicts to come, maybe even hundreds. Take my word for it; true peace in an illusion. The League is the closest thing to peace this world will ever know."

"It's not perfect, but if it's not broken don't fix it. People aren't perfect Morgana, but I think they're worth betting on."

To his surprise, Morgana said nothing in return. She gave him a small smile before breaking the silence.

"That's a good stance to have. Because neither of us are human, and we shouldn't try to pretend we are."

Before he could think of anything else to say in retort, the door he had entered flung itself open with enough force that is slammed loudly into the baker wall, it's hinges groaning loudly from the stressed force they were under. He watched a shadow in the shape of a hand crawl along the wall, eventually reaching the door and holding it open on its own. Looking back to Morgana, she had already started walking off to the closed off back kitchen of Sinful Succulence.

"Now get out," she commanded, not even sparing him a parting glance. "I have cleaning to get to."


	6. Unstable Matters Chapter 5: Instituting War (Part 3)

Unstable Matters Chapter 5: Instituting War (Part 3)

Zac barely took his first step out onto the street, before getting shoved from behind by the door of the bakery slamming shut behind him. He watched the curtains on the front door's window draw themselves closed along with the front display window, making it impossible to see inside from the street.

He was alone, hungry, and had lots of answers for questions he couldn't remember.

"Don't forget these."

He turned around at the sudden sound of Morgana's voice behind him, and without warning was hit in the face with a brown paper bag. The front door had opened only a tiny crack behind him, before being slammed shut once again. Waiting for a second to make sure nothing else was going to happen, he peeled the bag from his own face before opening it and taking a look inside.

"Poro-snax?" he said to himself, taking out one of the small circular biscuits with his fingers. He looked back into the brown paper bag and counted four more beside the one he was holding. "What the heck is this for?"

"HEY YOU!"

Zac jumped again from the sudden shout directed at him, nearly dropping the biscuit in his fingers as well. Coming out of a nearby alleyway, Vi waved one of her gigantic hextech gauntlets in the air at him as she came over.

"About time you got out! I've been waiting all damn-" Vi stopped herself in front of him, plucking the brown biscuit from his fingers with her own. "Wait, is this a poro-snax? Is this where the League gets these things?"

"Yeah, I guess so," was all Zac could think to say back. He glanced over his shoulder at Sinful Succulence one last time, half expecting Morgana to be peering at them from the front window with a moody and sullen look on her face.

"That's good! Just in time then!" Vi said, laughing as she slapped him on the back hard, nearly knocking him over as she did. "We'll need those on the Howling Abyss. I like feeding those cute little fur balls."

"Wait, what?" Zac felt his jaw run slack for the countless time in the day.

"Yeah, we gotta' go fight in a match. Something between Ashe and Sejuani." Vi shrugged apathetically. "I don't know why, but they choose us. I was in the middle of an investigation with Cupcake, you know? But that's how it is! The Summoners organizing the whole thing asked me to come get you, since I told them I knew where you were."

The sun above continued to beat down on his head mercilessly with its searing rays, which would be in stark contrast to the goo-freezing gale-force winds that blew around the historic bridge in Freljord now commonly known as the Howling Abyss. Zac groaned, feeling the weight of reality start to press down on his shoulders. Secretly he resisted the urge to ditch Vi and make a break for the nearest sewer drain to slide into it and away from all of his problems. Nothing good ever came from fighting on the god-forsaken bridge in the middle of Freljord, where there was barely any room to dodge your enemy's attacks never mind your own allies.

Looking down the street from where he had came, the expansive domes of the Institute of War could be clearly seen in the horizon. They stood above even the highest buildings in the city surrounding the Institute, forever shadowing the city as a constant reminder of its authority across the entire continent. He didn't even know what he had to return for, other than the fact that there were going to be five others prepared to fight to the death against him.

But did it really matter? Hadn't one of the first things he had been forced to learn was that not every fight would be one for peace, truth, or justice? Hadn't he known that even before he had stepped through the Reflect Chamber and been judged by the League?

Zac was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Vi asked him a question.

"Before we go, how'd it go? Did you talk to the old bat and get what I told you to?" she asked him, elbowing him where his ribs would be if he had any bones. "The baker's special? Did you get the good stuff?"

"I got something," Zac said, remembering the nasty looking substance Morgana had served him. Although the taste hadn't been revolting or too disgusting, going down his gullet the black wash had the texture of a slime even slicker than his own. Worse than all of that, he had forgotten to order anything to eat while they had been talking. "Was it supposed to look and smell like molten tar?"

"Yeah, that's it." Vi nodded. "Trust me, now you'll be good to go for the rest of the afternoon."

"So… What was in it then?" he asked, noticing how Vi seemed oddly pleased over hearing him take her recommendation.

"What was in it?" Vi repeated. He watched her turn around immediately, trying to laugh off his concerns. "Ahh….erm… Well, that's not important! The only thing that matters is that you drank it! It's good for you, trust me on that."

She turned back to him and laughed again, as he continued to stare down at her with a face of miserable betrayal and suspicion. Cringing guiltily a little at his irate face, she turned around and started walking back to the Institute of War without him.

"I said don't worry about it! It's good for you! Trust me!"

"Can you at least tell me if it was dangerous!?" Zac shouted, following behind her at his own pace.

"Don't worry about it!"

"Should I be seeing a doctor!?"

"Trust me!"

"Oh take your time, I'm already dead!"

Zac rolled his eyes at the Greyor, the eternal spectral shopkeeper for the blue side of the Howling Abyss Field of Justice. Most of the ghostly viking's quips and prattling could be tuned out, somedays. Maybe Avarosa had killed him to shut him up, and trusting him with being the first warning to the Watchers return was an afterthought.

Stepping out from the starting point on his end of the bridge, with his first step he had nearly slipped and fallen over on the icy stone bricks that made up the invincible bridge spanning the Howling Abyss. The icy new world he was in was a token example of the powerful magics the Institute utilized every day. Nothing any of the champions fighting on the bridge day in and day out could damage it. Almost every afternoon the ancient stone structure was subjected to magic, blades, and explosives. No matter how many times anyone fought on it, the bridge remained a time-frozen historical monument to the Freljord's history.

Running one last mental checklist in his head, he looked down at his own two hands and tried to discern a difference from his regular size. Just like any other Field of Justice, the magic enchantment from items that increased his health also increased his physical size. With his starting gold his Summoner had decided to go with a more standard build route of a pair of Boots and a Giant's Belt. But as far as he could tell there wasn't too much of a difference to his size, or at least not yet. He felt a lot more confident and intimidating the larger he got, but the clear downside was that it was harder to dodge the countless things thrown his way with killing intent.

Out in the distance near their second tower he could see Vi holding out her own poro-snax to a small little white fur ball with a gigantic tongue. The poro in question looked very conflicted, having to decide whether or not to accept the tasty treat from a punch-happy cop with gigantic steel fists.

"Excuse me?"

Zac turned around, seeing Ashe behind him. There were magics in play that prevented the harsh conditions of the Howling Abyss from affecting the champions fighting on it, but there was something that always nagged him about many of the Champions from Freljord. Some dressed as someone would expect people (or creatures) coming from a fiercely cold region of the world, while others...did not. Then again, who was he to critique the fashion sense of others when he never wore clothes in the first place.

With Avarosa's famous bow of ice in hand and a full quiver on her back, Ashe lowered the hood of her black and gold laced cloak letting the wind blow her silver hair back.

"I'm sorry to inconvenience you like this," the frost archer said, bowing politely as she did. "I'm sure you had plans for today, but I was told there weren't many champions available."

"No, not really," Zac said, nonchalantly shrugging as he did. In fact, the last thing he wanted to think about were the strange happening of the last few hours. "I'm surprised to hear that, though. I thought the only reason all of are here is to fight."

"Some of us more than others," Tryndamere said, walking up alongside his wife and shouldering his massive blade. "I can't wait to put that bearded buffoon in his place! The Ursine leader might make a good challenge too."

Zac nodded numbly at the barbarian king's words, slowly remembering what he could about his opponents just out of sight on the other side of the bridge. Champions aligned or representing the tribe of the Winter's Claw. For a short while the Institute had ran a competition between the three princesses contending for control of Freljord, allowing the grievances of each tribe to be fought over in the Fields of Justice. City-State leaders, Champions, hell, just about everyone from all of the different city-states had placed bets, organized closed-door deals, and formed alliances all for the sake of profiting between the civil war taking place far away from the home of the actual forces fighting.

Because of it, he had become painfully acquainted with Sejuani, the successor to Seryida's spirit and the tribal leader of the Winter's Claw. Remembering what Tryndamere had said, it meant that her two allies, Volibear the Ursine leader, and Olaf the berserker, would be fighting alongside her too. Together the three were not pushovers, both in reputation and strength.

"Getting cold feet?"

Zac turned around at a third all-too familiar voice behind him. On the opposite side behind him Morgana stood with a sour frown on her face, wearing a freshly laundered set of the same baking outfit he had seen her wearing when he had been in Sinful Succulence earlier. It was a sight to behold; one that was more comically out of place on the Howling Abyss than anything else he had seen save for Singed in his beach attire. He thought about asking what had happened or why she had decided to join them, but the expression on the fallen angel's face made it clear that her own pun hadn't been made in jest.

"Let's just get this over with," Morgana said, pulling him by the arm toward where Vi was patting the poro she had fed on the head. "I have a plan. For now you two stay here for a few minutes," she commanded, walking ahead and leaving Ashe and Tryndamere behind before they could say anything.

"You said you have a plan?" Zac asked after waiting a moment, still being pulled by his arm into the brush near the middle of the bridge. Making some sort of hand gesture, Morgana caught Vi's attention and they all entered the thick overgrown brush together.

"Yes. Give them a minute," Morgana explained without explaining anything. "Vi, can you see where Sejuani is?"

"Yeah, there she is." Vi immediately pointed a finger outward into the hailing rain and snow around them.

Zac focused his vision to the opposite side of the bridge as well. Standing in front of the enemy tower he could make out the outline of someone in thick armor riding a large animal. Unmistakably the inseparable duo of Sejuani and her giant boar Bristle.

"You don't think she's going to offer us a spot of tea, do you?" Vi said, doing her best to mimic Caitlyn with the ending part of her question.

"No, and I don't think the Ursine or berserker will either," Morgana said dryly, as Zac could make out two other figures standing strong next to Sejuani in the haze of the snow storm. "This could get ugly, and fast. I want nothing to do with all three of those brainless animals."

"Alright, I'm counting three of them." Zac looked around, peeking his head out of the overgrowth in the center of the Howling Abyss with Vi and Morgana still crouched down at his sides. "So who are the other two that should be with them?"

"They're right next to us, you fool," Morgana scoffed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Who do you think we're waiting for? Can't you sense them?"

"Well I guess that's our cue. Howdy folks."

In a puff of smoke Twisted Fate and Evelynn suddenly appeared together, quickly crossing the small gap between the two brushes that evenly divided the center point of the Howling Abyss bridge. Both the Card Master and Widowmaker were wearing matching costumes, a combination of red and black that toppled Morgana's bakers outfit as the most ridiculous thing to wear on a Field of Justice. But before he could ask any questions or even match Twisted Fate's greeting, Vi jumped to her feet with a fist ready.

"EAT THIS!" Vi shouted, and threw her steel hextech fist forward with enough force to decapitate Twisted Fate right where he stood. In a flash Zac reached out and intercepted it, the gelatinous mass of his own large fists catching Vi's and stopping it before it could reach its target.

Morgana rolled his eyes, letting out an audible huff. "Down, you police dog. They're here to talk, not to fight."

"Aww," Vi groaned, throwing her arms up in the air. "Damn it Morg! If I can't punch things, what am I doing here!?"

Seeing that he was safe for the moment, Twisted Fate breathed a sigh of relief.

"Woah now officer," Twisted Fate said, raising both his hands defensively and standing to partially shield Evelynn as he did. "We're not here to dance today. How about you hearin' us out before we start dealin' cards?"

"Yes, yes. But first things first. Hello Evelynn," Morgana said, smiling and shoving Zac aside roughly to step in front of him. "It's been far too long. How have you been?"

"Morgana," Evelynn said, returning her friend's greeting with her own evil smile. "Yes, it has been far too long hasn't it? These pesky Summoners keep me busy all of the time these days. They have no consideration for a woman and her needs."

"Oh tell me about it," Morgana bemoaned. "First they tell me that I'm not cut out to fight in the middle lane, just as my older sister starts becoming popular again! But instead of giving me a well-deserved break, they send me to the bottom lane to play babysitter with those foolish marksmen. The nerve of this Institute and their Summoners some days!"

"Um," Zac tried to interject, but felt himself being increasingly ignored as seconds ticked past. He looked over at Vi who was rolling her eyes and making a face like she were about to vomit. "Are we going to… Maybe we should… Uh…"

"Don't even bother, son." Twisted Fate patted his hand on Zac's shoulders and flashed him a slim but knowing smile. "They'll be in their own world for a little, so let's talk about ours."

"Fair enough." Zac found himself agreeing, noticing that Tryndamere and Ashe were finally coming over the blue side of the bridge together. "I guess you have something in mind?"

"I think you can probably tell," the card wielding gypsy said, pointing to himself as he spoke. "I was in the middle of something very important before I was summoned here. I'd like to get back to that as soon as possible, understand me?"

"Yeah, me too!" Vi added, starting to bounce in place out of boredom while stretching her arms. "But I want to smack Olaf around first. I owe him a good beating from a few days ago."

"Then you can go have fun with the barbarian king and his queen," Morgana interrupted, turning from her conversation with Evelynn. She made a shooing motion with her hand at Vi. "The adults are talking now. Go throw Sejuani off the side of the side of the bridge, or something."

"Yeah!? Well maybe I will! Because it sounds fun, that's why!" Vi blew a raspberry at the fallen angel and company, before exiting the overgrowth and walking over to Tryndamere and Ashe who were still approaching together behind them all. Morgana simply groaned aloud at the immature display of defiance, before going back to conversing with Evelynn in private.

Zac watched her go, making sure that she was far out of listening distance before he turned back to Twisted Fate.

"She's gone. Did you find anything out?"

"Of course," Twisted Fate grinned. "You'd be surprised how damn sloppy Noxian agents are when they think they're in safe territory."

Slipping a hand into his inner coat pocket, he pulled out a small slip of paper and discreetly handed it to him. Peeking his head out of the brush, Zac checked one more time that both Sejuani's group and Ashe's group were far enough away that it would be impossible for them to eavesdrop in on their conversation.

"You were right about Katarina making repeated trips to Bilgewater. Swain is claiming in public that she's returning back to Noxus to train Crimson Elite recruits, but every leave of absence she takes, she never returns back to her home city-state."

"Do you know what she's doing there?"

"The same thing she was doing during the Ionian war; rounding up privateers and slipping them gold to raid merchants of other city-states." Twisted Fate tipped his hat, frowning heavily. "Downright dirty business, if you ask me. A pretty poor use of one of their best assassins."

"Yeah, you read my mind Fate." Zac looked over what he had written, noting the names of ships and places visited. All of the names were unfamiliar to him. "Thanks for this."

"Don't thank me when you're paying me. Speaking of which, can I ask for an advance on my next job?" Twisted Fate pointed back to Evelynn discretely. "I could use the gold for…personal reasons."

"I'll ask the head honchos for an advance on my allowance," Zac said, handing the piece of paper back to him. He went over the names he had read in his head one more time, making sure to memorize them for the future. "Let me ask first, did you actually have a plan for this mess?"

Twisted Fate scratched his chin in thought.

"Well, I reckon we should do what we always do; go out and try our best not to get killed."

"...Oh."

Zac popped his head out of the brush, alerted to the sudden sounds of battle. But instead of the fierce exchange of blows he had been expecting, two figures from both sides were still standing on their own ends watching something happening in the middle of the bridge. Squinting so he could see over Ashe and Tryndamere, he could vaguely make out Vi holding Volibear in a literal steel headlock, and was giving him the most painful noogie he had ever seen.

Next to him Twisted Fate gave a low chuckled at seeing the ongoing antics for himself. From behind him he felt Morgana's hand in her oven mitts pat him on the shoulder, and he turned to see the fallen angel giving him a sign that it was their time to leave.

"Are you ready?"

It was such a simple question. Really, it was. Was it the incredible past Morgana had gone through that made everything in the League so casual to her? Or had her experience in the League slowly affected her outlook on it? Would he be the same, if he remained fighting for the years to come?

No, he told himself. Killing and being killed with such common frequency would never be normal for him.

And he would do everything in his power to keep it that way.

"Alright," Zac sighed, watching Evelynn and Twisted Fate leave together.

"Let's get this over with."

"Have you found anything?"

Talon opened another drawer, pushing aside the contents inside and looking around for anything underneath hidden. Turning up nothing for the untold time, he closed the drawer and opened the next one beneath it.

"No."

"Then keep searching," Katarina commanded, casually turning the page of the book in her hands. She then kicked her legs up, and spread herself out over a lush sofa in the room.

Talon grumbled an obscenity under his breath, making sure it was just loud of enough for Katarina to know he had said it. But the elder Du Couteau sister remained seated; wearing an uncaring expression as she casually continued reading the book she had picked out from a shelf.

As a vassal of the late General Du Couteau, his fate had been left undecided with the precarious political position the family found itself in with the rise of Jericho Swain to the position of Grand General. He had been trained with enough wits to know that the Du Couteau family (along with other noble houses) had been in the sights of the master tactician as a political scapegoat for the mediocre campaign in Ionia. It was impossible to tell in such times whether or not the hostilities would extend outward toward the servants of the family as well.

After all, House Du Couteau had played a key role in the downfall of the Black Rose Society several centuries ago. The specifics as to what Katarina and Cassiopeia's ancestors did were unknown, but something significant had happened. Something distasteful enough that the current matron of the Black Rose Society still held a personal grudge against House Du Couteau. It was hardly a secret to anyone with a brain and access to the Institute of War's files on their Champion roster that Swain and LeBlanc shared some sort of clandestine relationship. How deep that relationship went, however, could only be left to one's imagination.

But then a year later, without warning he was informed that he had been selected by the reformed High Command to join the Champions representing Noxus on the Fields of Justice. From the pawn of one general to another, he found himself plucked out of the bleak limbo of Noxian politics and into an entirely different world.

A strange world. A world where the people he killed never really died, and he in turn couldn't be killed by them. A world where he was told ahead of time what every fight was for. A world where there were different opponents every single time, whose own fighting styles were as wild as his imagination. A world where the people above him knew everything about him; far more than he ever would have been comfortable with years before.

Maybe new his position was a sign of sorts. A message intended for both Katarina and Cassiopeia, that Swain wanted to bury the unspoken hatchet between them and focus on the success of Noxus in the League. Or maybe it was an unspoken agreement that if they cooperated with him when fighting in the League, he would not go through with whatever vengeful whisperings LeBlanc had in store.

Or maybe it was easier to keep track of the vengeful remnants of a dead House if they were in one place.

"What am I looking for?" Talon felt the need to ask again, after the search through another drawer filled with junk turned up nothing of value. He was used to have to take the occasional odd job, but acting like a petty thief was by far the lowest thing he had been tasked with.

"Information," Katarina answered, still clutching the small book in her hands possessively.

"What kind?"

"Anything useful," Katarina answered again, just as specific as the first time. "Keep on it."

She could practically feel Talon's blood boiling under the surface of his skin, as he turned back around and continued searching. It was always fun teasing the street rat who had been brought into their home so suddenly without warning. The quiet, mumbling, grumbling, angry little brother whose nose she could rub in the dirt. Maybe it was to just spite Cassiopeia, who clung to their bloodline too tightly as measurement of self-worth, but there was something nice about having someone in the house who could appreciate her lethal talents. And someone who she could use as a punching bag whenever she felt like it.

It was funny to think that the words of her late father about the gutter rat rung true even to today. Her old man had forced perspective into Talon's mind with the threat of death. Pushed to the brink, he had given the youth the opportunity to use him and be used in turn. Live the life of a dog to learn as many tricks as could from the master.

Thinking about it, maybe Swain had been forced to do the same since becoming a Champion too.

"I've found something."

Distracted by the touch of nostalgia, Katarina shook herself out of it. "Show it to me," she ordered.

She watched Talon pull a folded piece of paper out from a long striped sock, of all the things. Odd, considering she didn't even know whether or not the owner was capable of wearing clothing with such a fluid body.

"What is it?" Katarina asked. Slowly he peeled whatever was in his hands apart, displaying how many times it had been folded over and over into a much more discrete size and shape. After what felt like a small eternity, Talon finished and spread the paper out onto the table in front of her.

"...A map?"

"Looks like it," he commented, hovering over the table and scanning it with his eyes. Pulling back the hood of his cowl, he pointed to several points on the map that had been circled. "It looks like some part of Valoran."

"No, it's a map of the Institute," Katarina breathed, slowly taking the realization in. She remained silent, eyes narrowed to meager slits scanning over the map carefully. Talon could see how hard she was thinking from her facial expressions alone, and he imagined maybe a hundred thoughts were passing through her mind all at once despite her silence.

But suddenly without another word spoken, she went back to relaxing and spread herself over the sofa as she had been before.

"Interesting. Very interesting."

Talon raised an eyebrow, trying to translate the mixed signals she was sending him. There was something she could clearly see that he hadn't noticed. Maybe something that came from being in the loop of the High Command, and it didn't look like she was going to enlighten him any time soon. As much as he hated to admit it, after everything that had happened involving the Du Couteau estate, Katarina was still his superior in many ways. General Du Couteau may have been the only man alive to earn his respect, but his elder daughter was starting to eclipse his image faster than the old man would have even been comfortable admitting.

When she had approached him early in the day, she had only said that she needed his help with something. Granted, that alone was more information than he was used to getting when it came to his line of work. Assassins and spies knew better than to ask questions, since results were all that mattered. But when she had revealed to him that her plan was to break into the living quarters of another Champion in the Institute, that was when he knew something had changed. Something big.

Something worth his time, for once.

Or so he had thought.

One of the first things he had been forced to learn when becoming a Champion, was the raw volume of rules and regulations the Institute of War maintained. There were strict regulations for the apartments Champions resided in, and even their behavior for entering in the surrounding city. These layers and layers of rules were all laid out in advance, all to protect the integrity of the League from every city-state's subtle or unsubtle attempts at sabotaging each other to get better results out of fights. The Institute of War was a fortress rivaling any other in the world, and the residences of its Champions were just the tip of an iceberg.

Summoners in the Institute had to have identifying papers kept on their persons at all times, and Summoners representing specific city-states were forbidden from interacting with Champions outside of controlling them on a Field of Justice. Random memory checks and scans were common, to keep track of the activities of Summoners who came and went from the Institute back to their homes. If those weren't enough, the hextech security devices and magic spells lacing every square inch of the Institute prevented any breaches of security from ever happening.

Everyone knew that breaking the rules came with punishments ranging from exotic to downright cruel. All Champions were not exempt from these rules, no matter their standing in their home city-states.

So what did a green jelly-man who never interacted with anyone or showed any signs of caring for anything have that was worth getting caught for?

"Kat, what are-" he began, but was quickly cut off with a quickly hand gesture. A tight open palm directed at him, the universal sign for him to shut up. Katarina shot him a sharp look as well, but he ignored it by focusing his attention elsewhere.

Something was coming down the hall toward the room they were in. Two somethings.

A wet slapping sound set to the pace of an even walk.

And a loud clopping, the sound of someone walking in heavy boots matching the pace of the former.

"Shit," Talon cursed audibly. Around him he knew that the room was still in disarray, and the signs that someone had been in it were too many to clean up in haste. If they fled quickly enough, it was possible that they would never be identified as the culprits. On the other hand, if word got out that the absolute defenses of the Institute had been broken, it would be a living hell in the future with what new rules the Institute would put in place. On top of that-

"Talon. listen to me. Calm down," Katarina ordered, as cool as she had been ever since they bypassed the lethal security runes around the apartment. "Stay put, and look respectable. Don't do anything foolish."

Only fools hesitate.

Of all the quips and proverbs he listened to Katarina spout from time to time, it was no coincidence that the most apropos one to his situation came to mind first. Maybe he had gotten rusty, being used to fighting the same opponents over and over again in a never changing world. Thinking about it, he had almost caved into the pressure of his assignment for the first time in a very, very long time. It was shameful to think about, and was made worse by the fact that he had done so right in front of his superior.

Something that Katarina would no doubt rub his nose in after the moment were done.

Assuming they both lived that long.

He could hear their voices growing louder. Two people approaching them at their own pace, unaware of who and what was waiting in store for them. It was a strange twist to fate, Talon then realized, that he had gotten ahead of his target in the most fortified city in the world, only for his mission to have no killing involved.

"I don't think they're happy with us, you know that right?"

"They never said it was against the rules! I mean, come on! She deserved it! Admit it!"

Zac loudly groaned for what had to have been the tenth time in the same day. The fight over the Howling Abyss had gone over well, all things considered. If you considered being frozen like a popsicle from an enchanted bolas, and getting clawed to death by an armored Ursine part of your routine. To top it off, the results of the match were being reviewed by Institute officials over calls of misconduct by Champions on both sides.

How was he supposed to know that dropkicking Sejuani off of Bristle before tossing her off the side of the bridge wasn't allowed in a fight to the death?

...Or maybe it was that he had inspired Vi to do the exact same thing, mirroring him perfectly, when Sejuani rejoined the fight a minute later.

It was pretty funny, in a terribly morbid way. He shivered a little at the guilty pleasure running through him over thinking about it. He could never admit it of course, but the deed had been done with a disgusting sense of accomplishment. Sejuani cursing and threatening him before he threw her over into the abyss only added to his morally ambiguous mirth.

"That's not the point, I think. I kno-" Zac began, but then stopped.

His bedroom door was open. It was a clear view from the hall that lead from the entrance foyer, and he almost did a double take from not noticing earlier. Not only that, but the magic lighting was on as well. Someone or something was in his house! Or had been, and had done a sloppy job of cleaning up after them.

"What? Did you leave the lights on or something?" Vi said, looking up ahead of them. "I do it all the time. No biggie."

He couldn't help but look at her like she was daft that time. It was no secret to anyone that the apartments of every Champion in the Institute lived on premise in small fortresses unto themselves. The countless layers of magic seals and runes inscribed into the very foundation of the building meant that it would be a monumental task to break in and out of one. It would be less time consuming for someone or some group to completely destroy the building and sift through the ruins if they had wanted something inside. And even then, it was no guarantee that the seals and runes leftover wouldn't fry you like an egg by just coming close.

Allowing visitors in was a chore unto itself. The proper authorities had to be told that you would be having someone over, then they would have to check for approval from some other group is that person would be allowed to stay with you, even if it was for only a minute. It had taken nearly half an hour to get approval for Vi to come over to his apartment, all to just have a conversation that they could have had outside without any hassle.

Not wasting another second, Zac put a finger up over his lips and prayed that Vi would understand.

Mercifully the pink-haired enforcer got his meaning, and stayed silent following close behind him.

He tried stepping lightly at first, but it was hard to ignore the loud and wet slopping sound of his own feet every step he took. A painful reminder that stealth was not his forte. He would probably have a better chance sneaking up on anyone if he crawled like a living puddle across the ground, and what remained of his pride wouldn't have him doing it any time soon.

You know what? Forget it, Zac thought to himself.

Giving up all pretenses of stealth, he just marched straight up to the door. But standing right outside its open frame, it suddenly closed without warning, slamming shut with a loud clap. When nothing happened after waiting a few second, he knew what he had to do.

Someone has a nasty sense of humor.

Lifting a hand and slapping it against the door's frame, it made a loud enough noise suitable to pass as a knock.

"...Can I come in?" he asked through the door, trying to ignore the indignity of playing along with his mystery guest's fun.

"It's open. Come in," came a disgusting casual answer from someone familiar on the other side.

Looking at Vi who just shrugged at him, Zac opened the door and stepped inside to his own bedroom.

Sitting as if she had just ordered a cup of coffee, Katarina sat on one of the large plush sofas he never had guests for in his room. Standing next to her was Talon, who appeared to be trying to hide his discomfort at being confronted by two other Champions. It was hard to tell with people like him who never showed any emotion even when they were pleased with themselves. But when contrasted to the Sinister Blade sitting idly by, the difference was highlighted much brighter.

He wanted to ask a question. A simple one. But since it probably would have come out sounding really dumb, he was glad that Katarina spoke first.

"Welcome back," she started, doing the best not to smirk. "Come in an-"

"HEY!" Vi shouted, interrupting her and shoving her way past Zac and in through the door. She then pointed her gigantic steel fists at both intruders. "Wait a damn minute! This is breaking and entering! You're both under arrest!"

"This isn't Piltover you idiot," Katarina gave Vi a flat stare. "You're not in charge of anything here."

"That hasn't stopped me before!" Vi shouted back, undeterred. "Now come quietly! And don't make me use lethal force!"

"What a pain," Talon muttered, standing up. He pushed his cloak aside, the inside being covered with the throwing daggers he used in his signature Rake technique. He then switched his own stance so that they could be thrown out without a moment's hesitation. "A weakling like you isn't even a challenge."

"So, you want to do this the hard way, eh?" Vi asked, holding up her own steel fist threateningly in response. "Fine by m-"

"Hold it!"

Both Vi and Talon stopped, and turned to Katarina who was still sitting collectedly despite her sudden outburst. Everyone in the room turned to her after the sudden interruption, waiting for what she would say next.

"Can't you two do this another time?"

Talon and Vi looked at each other, before looking back to Katarina. Talon simply scowled, while Vi shook her head rapidly from side to side as her answer. Katarina looked back and them both, and groaned in exasperation. Finally after a moment, she caved in and sighed.

"Fine. But no weapons, okay?"

Talon and Vi exchanged glances, in what Zac could only think of some sort of silent agreement to her conditions. In a single swift movement, Talon removed his cloak and began working to take his signature bladed arm guards off of his self. Still standing next to Zac, Vi dropped her two hextech fists to the ground, letting them fall with a loud thud from their own weight.

"I know about you," Vi cracked her knuckles on one hand before doing it to the other. "They say you're one of Noxus' best assassins, right? Well I bet you're not so tough in a straight fight."

"And you're the cop who can't catch a screaming, hyperactive child," Talon retorted, and Zac watched Vi's expression drop. "Pathetic."

As far as Zac heard, Vi never even said a word.

It took her less than half a second to clear the distance between them, and tackle Talon to the ground. Talon to his credit reacted immediate, kicking his attacker in the gut and throwing her off of him. But Vi was more stubborn than he had given her credit, and the two rolled away, locked punching, kicking, and yelling into another room. All the while turning over and breaking things as they went.

"Where were we? Ah, yes. Welcome back," said the crimson assassin smoothly to the bio-weapon still standing in the doorway. Behind her the fighting between Talon and Vi continued uninterrupted, the curses and shouts of both Champions echoing loud enough for anyone to hear outside of the apartment. Something loud and fragile sounding shattered, but was drowned out by the sound of something tougher breaking right after. "Come in and close the door. We need to talk."

Zac continued to stare in disbelief, his jaw hanging slightly ajar under him. Talon and Vi were somewhere still in the mists of their fight, with both Champions going from one adjacent room to another grappling and throwing punches back and forth. From a room away he could hear very violent sounds, as well as more of his possessions being destroyed wherever they went.

Still in front of him, the red-haired instigator of everything remained seated just as calmly as she had probably been before he returned. Even with what was happening, she wore an expression of utter uncaring as if she were relaxing outside and watching the sunset in peace.

Looking at his unflattering expression, Katarina laughed lightly.

"Happy one year anniversary, by the way."


	7. Unstable Matters Chapter 6: Anniversary

**Unstable Matters Chapter 6: Anniversary**

_You may have noticed that the Institute of War has some strange policies._

_I'm sure no one is going to argue with me on that one. Keeping monsters like Nocturne, Brand, and Fiddlesticks in the basement of the Institute, allowing more and more monsters from the Void into our dimension, regulating the sales of magic artifacts and weapons while banning others, and secretly instigating violent conflicts across the world to justify their existence._

_When I told Morgana that the League wasn't perfect, I meant it. I'm not stupid enough to believe that the old men and women in robes are these all-powerful saints with clean moral palettes and hearts of gold. Power. Prestige. Wealth. Fame. Infamy. All of these things can be earned by anyone with enough talent and the skill. There are a lot of downsides to this, but…_

_Well, the system we have isn't perfect, but it's worth fighting for._

_I wonder from time to time if I'm becoming too short sighted. Too eager to defend something because it's all I know. If a better system were to come along someday, would I even be able to see it for what it was? Because all I can think about some days are what we stand to lose if what we have fails._

_At the time I'm writing this Valoran is more at peace than it has ever been in its history, and I can't imagine anyone wanting to go back to the times during the Rune Wars. Living in a world that could be torn asunder by the reckless actions of others hundreds of miles away. A hellish landscape scarred by a violent, reckless abandon humanity always took toward inflicting harm on others. A world where you couldn't even be sure if the sun was going to rise the next morning, or rain fireballs down on everything you know and love._

_Or so I thought. I had been wrong before, and this wasn't going to be the exception._

_Anyway; the only policy that's ever concerned me was my one-year anniversary._

_It was on 29 March 2013 CLE that I walked through the reflecting room and into a new world._

_And on 30 March 2014 CLE, I discovered that Katarina Du Couteau (with Talon) had broken into my apartment for the purpose of offering me a job._

_The time difference between the two wasn't coincidental. Neither was Luxanna Crownguard warning me of things to come earlier in the same day. In fact, I was a little surprised that Demacia didn't act first if they knew that their Noxian counterparts were going to. Maybe the Noxian High Command isn't the only structured military with red tape problems running up and down its structure._

_Now, you're probably wondering why I would bother involving myself in something so sketchy, since I was under no obligation to accept her request. Unfortunately, that's a more complicated situation that I will have to save writing about for another time._

_Instead, let me explain something related to that._

_There are many things neutral Champions can do to promote their own image in the League. Fighting alongside Champions from other city-states for their causes is only one of many. There are a lot of perks to being renowned and popular outside of the Institute's circles, but that same fame can quickly become a double edged sword. If a Champion unaffiliated with a city-state builds up a reputation, willingly or otherwise, it is not uncommon for the Institute to have said Champion take steps to maintain it. A price to be paid for not opting to take a more concrete stance in the politics of Valoran._

_For some Champions, it's as simple as letting newspapers and tabloids write columns about their daily lives. Or going on publicity campaigns about hot political topics. Something for the Institute to work with when it came to promoting their image, and remind the public of each city-state that there were more Champions in the League than their own._

_All the kinds of things I wasn't too keen on, basically._

_Unfortunately for me, the idea of an artificial life form bred in a Zaun laboratory out of inanimate chemicals was cool to a lot of people. The fact that I could talk and think for myself was just gravy._

_When they finally came for me, the Institute was lenient enough to cut me a deal after seeing my performance outside the Fields of Justice. A hand tailored deal, unlike any other, which was the best I could hope for given my own unique circumstances. I like what I got, and so did my new bosses._

_Best of all, the details of our agreement were a secret between my contractors and myself._

_But the way Champions from other city-states looked at me, I have to wonder if they knew._

* * *

When Zac had gotten up in the morning earlier in the day, he remembered hitting his waterproof alarm clock early. Stealthily getting out of bed despite living with no one else, it had been pitch black before sunrise with only the moon casting a dull glow over everything in his Institute home.

He tried to keep the place clean, just in case he ever had guests over. But it was impossible for someone of his age and disposition to keep his home anything resembling clean, not when he sometimes dripped while waking up in the morning. Try as he had, it was impossible to keep his residence spick and span as he would have liked. There were only so many things that could be lined with a rubber or plastic coating, and he didn't want to stay in his assigned home with his free time.

Not that any of that mattered at the moment.

"Sorry if I don't offer you anything to drink, but I don't want to interrupt them."

Katarina laughed loudly, throwing her head back in a surprising display of open emotion. She let out a deep sigh after, allowing herself to sink back down into the plush cushions of the sofa.

It was strange to be in the company of people (or sometimes non-humans) that had their faces and personas plastered everywhere, only to find how radically different they were in private. If you went by the material printed in tabloids like the now-defunct _Journal of Justice_ , talking to Katarina carried a fifty-fifty chance of getting stabbed for no reason at all. But here he was, sitting in his own room and conversing with one of the world's deadliest killers like casual acquaintances.

"You're taking this rather well. It was a pain getting in here, you know."

"I'll let the architects of the Institute know they need to do better in the future. Does the Institute have carpenters on call too?"

"What? This?" She gestured at the trail of destruction left in the wake of her accomplice and the police. "I'm sure someone can fix it. If they can manipulate time with magic but can't replace a few broken pieces of furniture, then I don't know what they're good for."

"Yeah, but now I have to think of a cover story for why this all happened."

"Good luck with that. They probably know what's happening already. They'll only give two damns if you lodge a formal complaint."

"...Is that coming from experience?"

"Don't push your luck." She smiled, her way of saying that she could see through his methods. "We're here to talk about you today, not me."

"I'd prefer if we didn't," he said, trying to sound as inoffensive as possible. "Because I don't think there's anything to discuss."

"Do you know why I'm here?"

Cutting straight to the chase, he noted sourly. It just went to show that polite manners were just another tool in the Noxian arsenal to get what they wanted. Not that many other city-states were all that different, probably. But coming from someone like Katarina, it just seemed to fit her deadly untouchable persona she flaunted all of the time.

"No," he admitted with a half-truth. "But I think I have an idea."

"I want your help with something delicate," she explained. "You help me with my problem, and I'll help out with yours."

"My problems?" Zac felt himself sinking into his chair at the thought. What was she talking about? His problems weren't all that serious, but he had to think and remember what other people thought his problems were. He doubted playing dumb would sway her, but it couldn't hurt to try.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play coy with me," Katarina said, looking at him with sharp eyes. As much as he was trying to put up a brave front, there really was something unnerving about sitting across from the best assassin in all of Noxus. Not that he could be killed with knives or swords like a normal human being. Maybe it was her aggressively youthful attitude, or how she carried herself even when only sitting and talking calmly, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was sitting across a bomb that could explode at any moment.

"You know as well as I do what your one-year anniversary to joining the League means. You're going to have to drop the unassuming act, and join the rest of the world."

"I'll do what I want, thank you very much," he bit back. "As long as the Institute approves of it, I don't give two damns about whatever Swain is asking you to do."

Without warning Katarina lifted a leg and brought it back down, slamming it hard onto the surface of the table between them. The sounds of Vi and Talon fighting stopped for a moment, maybe out of coincidence, but stared back up after the slight delay.

"Listen, I'm not here as Swain's errand girl. I'm offering you something because I think you can fulfill my expectations," she said, the subtle charm in her voice was gone and replaced with a hinting menace. "Don't patronize me by playing stupid."

Zac grunted, trying to seem unimpressed. He crossed his arms and laid back in his own seat to match her own pose. "Can you at least tell me what I'll be doing? Or is this one of those need-to-know kind of things?"

"If you would stop being stubborn, I would have told you already."

Katarina unzipped the top of her green leather jacket, slipping her fingers under her own top and pulling out a folded piece of paper. He looked at it with a bit of amusement before taking it, wondering if holding her mission near her heart was some sort of symbolic act or just a bit of lewd amusement for whoever she was supposed to deliver it to.

"What's this about?" he asked, before starting to read it over.

"It's simple," Katarina said, crossing her arms and laid back just as she had been before. "We're going to board a freighter docked in Zaun, and guard what's onboard until we reach Bilgewater and Ionia."

"Simple, huh?" He looked over the paper, skipping past the brief introduction and normal fluff written to try and coax the reader into forgetting the reputation of the writers. "So, what's onboard that needs League Champions to guard it?"

"That's none of your business."

"Of course it isn't," Zac muttered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "How silly of me. If you just want hired muscle, why don't you just pull soldiers from your incredible army?"

"If I could, I wouldn't be wasting my time trying to sell this to you, now would I?" Katarina shot back, the menacing tone in her voice still present. "This is all you're getting, so deal with it."

It was no secret that catastrophes lurked everywhere in Valoran, too numerous to count. It was also no secret that the Institute of War (and the Champions that were part of it) was somehow responsible for most of them, in some way or another.

When he contemplated just how vague her proposal was, it was really astounding that he hadn't told her to leave already before looking up a way to sending the repair bill for his home directly to Swain. Despite her reputation, all he could see was a bad-tempered brat being forced to go play with other kids she normally never did anything with, by the orders of an indifferent parent. Shallow and pathetic barely described it; it was actually as if she expected him to just blindly accept out of some undeserved appreciation for her offer.

But thinking about it, if that was the case, than it meant that she had been told to come to him by someone else. Someone higher. Someone whose orders she couldn't just ignore, or go about fulfilling in some other way. Swain? Maybe. Darius? Also possible. Maybe her own sour behavior was from a sore ego. Sore from being forced to ask for the help of someone she considered beneath her.

It was only a jumble of observations, but maybe he could use them to his advantage.

"You know, I never got a chance to ask you a question I had before," Zac began saying. Katarina frowned from the sudden and purposeful change of subject, but remained silent waiting for him to continue. "Before, you said that Diana didn't respect us. When you killed her for no reason, isn't that the same thing?"

He watched her chuckle evilly, probably from remembering her own actions earlier in the day.

"You're looking at it too deep. The only reason we ever enter any Field of Justice is to kill the other five Champions on the other side. A swift and merciless death is the only thing any Champion can expect from another."

"Then you should expect a swift and merciless decline from me, if you have no respect for my time by bringing me and offer and telling me nothing about it," he said, mimicking her own tones when he spoke.

He crumpled the piece of paper detailing the mission, and threw it back at her uncaringly.

"If you want someone to play the role of a statue, go borrow Sion from Darius."

Without another word spoke, Zac got up and strode out of his living room.

Heading for the door to leave his apartment, he couldn't help but think about what he had done. How long would it take for Katarina to chase after him? And with several knives in hand? Five seconds? Ten? However long would it take his words to sink it? Or maybe it was his own ego talking, and the assassin didn't give two damns about whatever he had said to her.

Reaching for the door handle, he stopped and waited.

And waited.

Nothing. Nothing other than sounds of Talon and Vi still fighting in his home.

 _Forget her. Who cares about her anyway_ , Zac thought to himself, and walked out of his home.

"It took you longer than I had guessed. How surprising."

A raspy but firm voice, held together with an authoritative and assertive tone. Zac turned at the new source speaking to him, and looked up for its source. Perched on the lowest branch of a nearby tree and staring back down at him was a large black raven with six red eyes. Unmistakably Jericho Swain's beloved Beatrice, if he remembered correctly.

"Before you even ask, yes, this is magic," Swain said, his voice coming from Beatrice's own presence. "I want to have a word with you. But before we do, let's do this somewhere else."

"I haven't even said yes. What makes you think I care about any of this?" Zac said, crossing his arms.

"The fact that you're speaking to me means you do. Don't misunderstand; I never had any faith in Katarina to win you over. Leave this area so we can talk about this somewhere else."

Without warning the six-eyed raven swooped down and landed on his shoulder, its small talons digging into him like a knife into gelatin. Zac looked over his shoulder, past Beatrice and at the open door behind them. From outside in the hall, he could still hear the sounds of Vi and Talon fighting somewhere unseen. There were no signs of Katarina either, and it didn't sound like she would be breaking up the fight any time soon.

"You want me to just leave them?"

"Let them stew in their own mess," Swain suggested, and Beatrice pointed a wing forward at the larger main spirals of the Institute. "They choose to do what they did. Let them explain to the Institute why they're in your house beating the hell out of each other."

"Abandoning your subordinates, huh?" Zac asked, starting to walk toward the main buildings of the Institute of War. "Some boss you are."

"They're not children," Swain grunted, and Beatrice flapping her wings a few times before settling down. "I can't rely on her to do anything other than take lives. Don't talk about things you don't know."

"Fine, fine," Zac conceded. "I won't talk about what I don't know if you don't beat around the bush."

"A Noxian does not dawdle." Beatrice thrust a wing forward, commanding him to move. "Make haste to the Institute's library. I will guide you there."

Now under the command of someone else, Zac decided to go along with it for the last time. Regardless of what the Grand General had in store for him, that would be in for the day. No more distractions. No stupid hijinks. No more fights. There was only so much a blob could take in one day, and he was at his limit.

And maybe he would finally get that snack he had been craving.

Walking off in his own world, Zac failed to notice the sewer grating just outside of his home shaking from some sort of disturbance. Something inside of the waterways was working the lock over, the iron grating continued shaking and rattling as it did.

The sewers underneath the Institute of War were just as elaborate as the facilities themselves, not that many people would know. On record the rat ways were of labyrinth proportions, running as far as the Howling Marsh to the north, and all the way back down to the base of Mogron Pass. To many people this was, of course, something no one would ever bother to tour for themselves. Just another fact about the Institute of War that was better read off of paper, and never seen firsthand.

Except if you preferred to live in them.

"Gah! There! Finally!" Twitch shouted, unlocking the rusty metal grating and peeking his head up and out to check his surroundings. The blindingly harsh rays of the sun then hit him in full force, causing him to wince and let out a low feral hiss.

"I hate the sun," he muttered, shielding his eyes with one paw and pulling on the straps of his broken goggles with the other. He slipped them off of his head and into a pocket, the broken lenses not helping him at all. He then looked around at the lush gardens and green trees surrounding Zac's apartment, and cringed at the sight. "Everything is so fresh and healthy. Ugh, how does he stand it?"

Clicking his tongue in distaste, Twitch pulled his light frame out of the sewer before swinging the metal grating back on its hinges and letting it slam closed. Checking over the contents of the satchel over his side, he nodded to himself before waddling over to the front door.

_Hmm. You know, I hope he's home. I heard he had to fight today._

"Hey, Zac! Open up!" He knocked on the door with a grubby paw, barely managing to reach halfway up its height. "I got something for you! It's this crazy cheese they sell in Piltover, and the stuff comes moldy! Can you believe it?"

But when he knocked on the door again, it slid open on its own in a haunting slow manner.

"...Oh, well that's weird. Hello?" Twitch said hesitantly, peeking his head into the door cautiously. Waiting a second, since nothing painful had happened, it meant the security runes in the building were off. Odd. Was it caused by some sort of magic failure? Some crazy experiment the Institute was hosting? An alien invasion? Swamp gas?

 _Well that IS weird. I wonder what's going on._ Twitch thought to himself, stealthily tip-toeing his way into the home. Even though it seemed like he was alone, there was something unsettling about being able to just waltz into a place the Institute's Summoners always said were off limits. Not that he cared too much, but sometimes he had to respect the requests of humans who were really good at blowing things up with arcane magical powers.

_Well, as long as I'm here, I suppose he wouldn't mind if I helped myself to a little snack._

Stepping over and around the toppled and broken furniture on his way to the kitchen, Twitch casually grabbed the handle and began rooting around inside.

"Let's see here… Rotten? No. Stale yet? No." Twitch picked up one thing after another, pushing some aside and tossing others out and away. "Oh come on, I know you're just hiding the good stuff!"

"Really? Getting beaten up by that street brawler? Are you that weak?"

Twitch nearly jumped out of his skin, pulling himself out of the open refrigerator and hiding himself as best as possible. With a small trail of stolen food behind him, he peeked around a corner and could see someone with deep crimson hair supporting another person over her shoulders. Unmistakably the infamous Noxian assassins Katarina and Talon, but something had happened to Talon that had left him badly bruised and beaten. So much so that it seemed Katarina was carrying him because he was too exhausted to move.

"Shut up. I didn't lose." Twitch heard Talon say, his voice blocked by the swollen bruises all across his face.

"But you didn't win, and that's the same as losing," Katarina said, stopping only for a moment to kick the front door of the apartment open with a loud slam. "Pathetic. You really are getting rusty."

Talon grumble another obscenity in protest, not directed at anyone but maybe himself. Watching them leave from his hiding spot, Twitch took a bite out of the cheese he had brought with him. He gobbled the rotting morsel down hastily, feeling his own blood running cold from such a close encounter.

_What were they doing here? Were they fighting with someone?_

"Hah! That's right! I showed you! You're not so tough after all."

Twitch felt his jaw slipping again. Walking out from the same place where he assumed Talon and Katarina had come from, the punk cop from Piltover strode out casually despite looking like a living pile of bruises. If she and Talon had gotten into a fight, than they had both been trading blows for blows with no regards for blocking or defending. Despite all of that, Vi was carrying herself just as casually as she ever behaved. Was it possible to for a human to have a super human tolerance for getting beaten to a pulp?

 _Yikes, she's even scarier than I thought_ , Twitch thought to himself, taking another bite out of the stolen food in his arms without thinking about it. _I don't want to fight her when she's in the jungle._

But suddenly, Vi happened to turn and noticed him staring straight at her.

Twitch felt the fur on the back of his neck stand on end, being face to face with a human wearing giant steel fists who had just gotten beaten up from head to toe and was acting like it was no big deal. He was face to face with some kind of mutant monster, of a different kind of scary that Noxian assassins were.

On Vi's end things were just as strange. After failing catching a pair of criminals in the act of breaking and entering, they had managed to both barely get away leaving her nothing to show for her bruises. And now there was a giant mutant rat staring at her. But not just any giant mutant rat, but a _criminal_ one.

After all, there was a fresh crime scene right behind him.

The open refrigerator door behind Twitch was still open, and there was a trail of stolen food leading to him.

"HEY YOU!" Vi shouted, breaking the tense silence and thrusting a steel fist at him. "You're stealing that, aren't you!? You're under arrest!"

"GAH! You'll never catch me!" Twitch shrieked. He scampered out the front door at full speed, with a trail of half-eaten food falling out of his arms behind him.

"What!? Don't run!" Vi shouted, chasing after him. "You're supposed to resist first! Resist arrest damn it!"

* * *

"What are you playing at!" LeBlanc hissed, her voice seething with anger. Her eyes narrowed into accusatory slits, and she leaned herself in closer to the large crystal ball in the center of a magical array carved into the face of the table.

"Who does he think he is, bringing an outsider into this!?"

Watching her teacher at fume from afar, Ahri snuck spying glances up over the top of the book she had been ordered to read. Learning how to silence the magic of her opponents with her own interested her greatly, but watching LeBlanc's face contort with wide range of emotions while shouting at an inanimate object was much more interesting. Flustered, concerned, and even angry. Very angry at that, and Ahri wondered it LeBlanc would blow up the crystal ball in front of her at any second.

Whenever they had ever had their lessons together, LeBlanc had always kept herself composed like royalty. Authoritative. Commanding. Intelligent. Charismatic. Distanced. If Ahri listened and did not question her, then she would get what she wanted. That was their relation to each other. Nothing more, and nothing less.

But right now, she was getting a front row view to a show no one in the Institute ever got to see. Not even in the Reflection Chamber had LeBlanc shown this much emotion.

 _I guess mastering magic doesn't come at the price of your youth,_ Ahri mused silently, quickly pulling the book up to cover her face when LeBlanc glanced past her without warning.

"He knows we don't have the power to imitate him. Did he choose him on purpose?!"

"Master-" Ahri said hesitantly, waiting to see if LeBlanc was any calmer than before.

"Don't call me that!" LeBlanc snapped, her venomous expression not changing.

Ahri's ears wilted a little, as she bit her own tongue gently trying to think of what to say next. She was not off to a good start, that was for sure.

From across the room where she sat, she could vaguely make out what LeBlanc was seeing that had her on edge. Through the crystal ball she could make out the vague shape of Jericho Swain, dressed in his strange but normal attire. He was somewhere in a place like LeBlanc's own quarters; dimly lit and surrounded by books on all sides. The Institute's library, maybe?

But there was something else with Swain, who seemed to be what he was talking to. Someone unseen. As far as she could tell with her good hearing, there were no sounds coming out from the scrying orb. Did the magic LeBlanc was using allow her to listen in without being detected? Or was she doing something as hard as reading the lips of the parties involved?

"He always has to do things his way. He's such a stubborn fool."

LeBlanc backed away from the crystal ball, taking a calming deep breath to compose herself as she did. She then leaned down to blow out the burning candles on the corners of the table. As soon as the last flame was extinguished, the visions in the ball began to melt before vanishing as well.

"I knew it would go to his head the moment he became Grand General. Now he's the king of fools, and he thinks he's above me."

Walking in circles, her eyes fell on the mannequin adorned with her cape and headdress she always wore when fighting on the Fields of Justice. Outside and in the privacy of her own alchemical workshop, she preferred to wear something more modest and less revealing. A simple royal purple robe with golden trim, very similar to the kind the elder Summoners wore.

There was very little comfort to be found in the Institute of War, no matter how many luxuries they could stack around her. The rarest ingredients for her alchemy. The oldest magic tomes for their knowledge. Access to ancient artifacts for their strange and exotic powers. Countless chances to experiment with her powers to grow stronger. The admiration and adoration of thousands on thousands from the faceless masses.

None of it mattered when Noxus, her beloved ancestral home, was still the plaything of corrupt politicians and weak generals. It was sickening to think that someone so close to her, who shared her ambitions, could rise so far in power only to become impotent right when it mattered.

He always spoke of patience, and increasingly of politics. Always politics.

Patience was for the LeBlanc before her, and the one before that. There was no time for waiting, especially if her fame in the League of Legends meant that she could do almost anything from the shadows without fear of death or reprisals. Having to spare the Du Couteau brats was unfortunate, but she would have to play by some rules if she expected her enemies to do the same. The Black Rose's rise to prominence and power was only years away, when a generation ago it had all seemed like a faint dream. A hope. A prayer. An illusion.

"...LeBlanc, I could go find out."

Interrupted from her thoughts, LeBlanc stared at Ahri with an insultingly doubtful look.

"...You?"

Ahri said nothing, wondering for a second if there was someone else in the room.

"...Yes!"

LeBlanc stayed silent, shaking herself free of remaining thoughts. She sat back down in her chair with a hard thump, crossing her legs as she did. Her face showed that she was still deep in thought, leaning heavily to one side and curling the edges of her hair around her finger.

Ahri suppressed a smile from forming on her lips. For a master magician who always had an air of mystery surrounding her, it hadn't taken too long to understand some of the more common aspects of her body language. Curling her hair around her finger self-consciously meant that she was thinking favorably about something. Trying to figure out how to take what she was thinking and work it further to her advantage. It was a good sign.

After another mute minute, LeBlanc stopped and looked back at Ahri. All of the stress from before was gone, like magic.

"You would do that for me?"

"Yes!" Ahri answered immediately, hopping up from her seat and leaving the boring book on the table. "In fact, how about I go right now?"

"Don't even think of using any magic on Swain," LeBlanc warned, holding up a hand as a silent command for Ahri to wait until she was finished. "He'll know why you did it. No matter what happens, you can't let anyone else know you're asking questions for me. This is important, do you understand?"

"I understand," Ahri nodded repeatedly, happy for a chance to both please LeBlanc and ditch her studies for a little. "So… Who is it? Who do I have to charm my way into their heart?"

LeBlanc reached over for her staff still resting to the side, the multifaceted crystals always suspended by an unknown force and glowing with power. Slamming the butt of the long staff hard against the floor, Ahri jumped in surprise as the candles around the crystal ball reignited themselves in a flash of flame.

"Do you know him?" LeBlanc asked turning and looking at the crystal ball. A foggy image was beginning to develop in the center, and something large and green began to come into focus.

"What I don't understand is why Swain is choosing him. Do you know anything about him?"

"Hmm… No," Ahri said back, bending over to get a better look at the Secret Weapon for herself. Even from her distorted view, she could plainly see that Zac was not enjoying himself.

"But that's never stopped me before. I bet I can turn that slimy frown upside down."


	8. Unstable Matters Chapter 8: Graceful Existence & Graceful Assault

**Chapter 7: Graceful Existence and Graceful Assault**

_Jericho Swain. That name is now synonymous across our continent with terror, cunning, betrayal, and violence. A living example of the Noxian credence that the strong will rise over the weak. A man who would never let anyone or anything get in the way of his ambitions._

_And yet, he is also charming, tactful, and incredibly intelligent. When you're in his presence, you feel that he is really listening to you, and that your opinions matter. You automatically become someone important (and of value) if he agrees with you._

_It would be easy to declare that Jericho Swain was a master manipulator, which he was, and leave it at that. But it would be a mistake to deny all personal responsibility for falling into his web. Honeyed words or not, what he told me had made sense, and I found myself agreeing to his terms._

_The height of my folly was trying to think that I was being told to go save Valoran by myself. You had the mindless horrors of the Void on one side, and the ageless phantoms of the Shadow Isles on the other. And in the middle you had the bureaucracy of the Institute of War, which was more than willing to allow its participants to try and destroy each other so long they could make a show out of it._

_With the surplus of evils in our world, what did it matter if there was one more?_

* * *

"Excuse me, Nasus?"

The library of the Institute of War was no simple housing for the collected works within. For someone seeking to learn more about the history of the world, it was more comparable to a haven of incredible proportions. Built into one of the largest spiraling towers of the entire facility, it contained an impressive collection of materials from all across Valoran.

To even call it a library undercut its depth and complexity. The archives, book stacks, hextech storage units, and magic artifacts were all housed in the towering spiral, that run underground too to house more sensitive material inside of large vaults. Factors such as temperature and humidity were controlled with magic, as were the attached arcades made up of gardening plots and squares. Some were paved like courtyards, orderly and secluded. Others were broad parks with dells and little hills, groves of trees, open lawns, and grassy glades sheltered by the hedges of flowering shrubs.

Topping this all off, the library was guarded every minute of every hour of every day by a select volunteer force that no one dared to challenge. A unique mix of personnel from the Institute, as well as Champions, both of which had decided to dedicate their time and presence to keeping the history of Valoran safe in these walls.

Nasus had sat like a towering sandstone statue, unmoving from his large circular desk that sat atop a plateau above the rest of the floor. Interrupted from his reading, the Curator of the Sands (and acting curator of the Institute's archives) looked down at his guest, his ears both shooting up momentarily.

He closed the book he had been reading gently, and placed it aside in a separate pile from the others he had stacked on a nearby table.

"...Yes?"

"I'm looking for Elder Daewoo's writings on the Kinkou Order. Volumes—"

"One and three, from the _Changing Plains_ series," Nasus finished, as if he were reading her mind. "An interesting choice, human. And who are you stalking today?" he asked, giving her a cold, inquisitive stare.

The Lady of Luminosity said nothing, with the innocent look in her eyes and slim smile on her face being all he needed for an answer. Humans and their conspiracies were a never ending thing on Valoran, Nasus mused, with someone or some group trying to get the lead on their rivals. Which only spurned the efforts of the opposing party to do the exact same.

It was no different from the human clans from his home, but the irony that humans, from different worlds no less, still acted like humans was not lost on him.

Getting up from his seat, Nasus turned to one of the large shelves behind where he had been seated. Her request was a special one, since both volumes has been written by a former high ranked Summoner of the Institute of War. Whether it be biographies, stories, or otherwise, the works of people involved with the League of Legends were kept separate from the rest of the archives. They were not open for reading by anyone else but other persons involved with the League.

"There are many copies of these works, but these are still unique to the history of this world," Nasus said, flashing his canines for just a second at her when he spoke. When her mask faltered for a second, he knew that his unsubtle message had gotten through.

Descending down the steps he passed the first book down to her, before turning around to search for the third volume.

"These _will_ be returned by the time you leave, young Spell Thief."

Luxanna shot him a hurt look, but Nasus ignored it and walked back to his desk after handing her the third book. Without so much as another word, he reopened his own book and went back to his studies.

"That was only once you know," she mumbled, shooting him a halfhearted glare for his cold attitude. Warranted or not, she hadn't expected such an unwelcoming attitude from him. Waiting to see if Nasus would say anything in response, which he did not, she sighed before turning to walk deeper into the Institute's archives.

Opening up the first book as she continued walking, she skimmed the first pages for a table of contents.

_The rise and fall of the Kinkou Order. A reference guide to the history and territory of the most influential ninja clan in Ionia._

Luxanna began taking down names and locations marked down on an unfolding map inside of the book. Looking back and forth between her small notepad and the map, she searched for her intended target.

_What did Karma say again? Was it the island of Galrin?_

She ran her finger on the map, tracing the different marking on the southern collection of islands of Ionia. South from Navori on the Ionian mainland, Galrin stood out historically as the home of many Ionian League Champions. More infamously, it was the first landfall of the invading Noxian army in what would eventually become a seven year occupation. From there Noxus had continued its warpath, invading the accompanying island of Shon-Xan, before taking large chunk of the Ionian southern mainland.

All of which had only happened because of Ionia's refusal to commit themselves to the concepts behind the Institute of War. It was no mystery why a nation that had a distasteful outlook on all forms of violence would want nothing to do with an Institution that specialized in something as abhorrent as war. Luxanna could sympathize with such a mentality, yet, there was something to be said about those who were unwilling to confront evils hiding in plain sight.

Slowly but surely, like a sleeping dragon that been disturbed from its slumber, when Ionia had finally rallied to defend itself a political wildfire started against Noxus that nothing could extinguish. No longer in direct conflict with Noxus, Demacia had been able to throw its full weight behind its own secret services to assist the Ionia in any ways possible. Many of the secret missions that had qualified her to join the League had been completed during those years.

Eventually, with Noxus' defeat in a rematch, one of the longest chapters in Ionian history had drawn to a close. Ionia and its allies celebrated their victory, and the offending invaders had been forced to withdraw.

It would have been nice if the world was run like a story book, Luxanna lamented, with the forces of good living the rest of their days in peace. But the reality of war and a near decade long rape and pillaging of the land would come knocking, and have a lot to say otherwise.

With the constant raids by pirates and the economic destruction left in the wake of the Noxian occupation, reconstruction effort of Galrin had stalled to a standstill. Like rubbing salt in an open wound, many of these pirate groups were known privateers hired by shadowy individuals, all for the purpose of stalling Ionia from returning to normalcy. This was only made worse by the fact that Noxus, Zaun, and Bilgewater were unwilling to take any responsibilities for such groups using their city-state as safe havens between raids.

 _Such is the way of things,_ Luxanna thought and sighed.

She had once traveled to the capital of Ionia, the Placidium, as part of an envoy with Prince Jarvan IV. The country was as beautiful as she had read about in her studies, but the priorities of the natives in placing philosophical pursuits over facing reality had been worrisome sometimes.

The obsessive drive for spiritual enlightenment had cost the lives of many Ionians, something conveniently forgotten by the majority of the populace. It was one of the main reasons why relations between Demacia and Ionia had decreased in recent years, since the Council of Elders seemed content believing that everything was back to being good and dandy in the world.

Even the most generous Demacians would think twice about pay gold out of their pockets to help someone who was unwilling to help themselves, or was too prideful to ask. There was a limit to generous virtues, even from the six noble houses that made up Demacia's constitutional monarchy.

"Good of you to arrive. You have my thanks for not making me wait long."

"Yeah, well, it's not every day that one of the most powerful men in Valoran wants to talk to me."

Luxanna felt her blood run cold at the sudden sound of voices speaking somewhere only a few shelves of books away. Startled out of her thoughts, she recognized the first gruff and hoarse voice as none other than Jericho Swain. And the second belonging to someone she distinctly remembered hearing from that he had no interest in talking to the first.

Without thinking she reached for her luminosity baton strapped to her back, and began to focus her power through it. In an instant the light around her began to bend like a shell around her; a simple and crude invisibility spell that would suit her current needs. Despite wearing her normal armor plating over her blue bodysuit, she swept through the towering shelves of books toward her target as silent as a shadow.

There were no rules in place against spying on Institute grounds, since it was only common sense that Champions and Summoners should keep to themselves about their own business. So why would the Grand General of Noxus greet someone in an area open to anyone's prying eyes and sharp ears?

For any spy there was no business like business not their own, and creeping ever closer she decided to look into just that.

Unseen from her position, Swain chuckled and folded his hands over his cane. "You honor me, but I must reply that I am still a junior officer compared to some of my contemporaries. I may be the supreme leader of Noxus, but the Old Families before me who made it their mission to strengthen my home cast a very large shadow."

His words washed over Luxanna like cold water. There was something about Swain that just screamed "politician" at every turn. Specifically, a politician with a deadly talent in dark magic. Here was a creature who had managed to fit in with the Noxian High Command in such a short period of time, that it completely dwarfed anything before him in Noxian history. Yet despite rising to the rank of Grand General, his behavior in and outside of the League remained the same from the time he had first been a mere Captain.

"There are a lot of people who would like to have a word with you," Zac said, and Luxanna swallowed. She hoped that was merely a coincidence, and not that either one of them could tell that she was there.

"You among them, I hope? Let me be clear, young man. I make no apologies for the actions of Noxus. Spilling the blood of the weak is as natural to a Noxian as breathing the air around us."

Swain paused for a moment, but Zac didn't leap in to comment.

"Now, I know my reputation precedes me Zachary." Swain stopped himself short. "Is that your full name? Or do you prefer something else?"

"Either is fine."

"Very well then. As I was saying, my reputation is fully deserved. I am, by Demacian lights, a heartless demon against all that is good in the world. In the views of some of the Old Families of Noxus, I am a rogue agent of chaos that wishes to destroy everything my people have achieved in the world."

"Riiight. Well now that that's clear, is all of this—" Zac waved a the library around them, "—just another interview opportunity to work for you?"

Again, another laugh. "No. There will be time for that later, when you return from your long journey and find the experience beneficial. Right now there are more pressing matters to be discussed."

Swain reached into his green armored robes, fishing around for a moment. Finding what he was searching for, he threw a small bundle of papers down on the table separating them.

"What did Katarina tell you about the freighter we have in Zaun, that is destined for Bilgewater and Ionia?"

"She told me where it was heading, but nothing else."

"The ship's name is the Garuda. It is one of the newest designs for our aging fleet, part of a collaboration between our military engineers and those from Zaun," Swain explained, lifting his cane using it to push the papers over to him. "It will be transporting spoils from the Ionian war back to Ionia. They are being returned as a gesture of goodwill between our city-states."

Zac picked up the piece of paper, and felt his jaw drop out at the pictures on it. He knew next to nothing when it came to the designs of ships and the like, but what he was looking at seemed like something out of a fantasy story. The design of the Garuda looked nothing like the sleek wooden ships that he had seen pictures of docked in city-states like Bilgewater. Its construction appeared to be completely out of metal, resembling a massive floating washtub that kept most of its cargo stacked high on its long deck. There were no sails either, as far as he could tell, which raised more questions on whether or not it could even be called a ship.

"Included with the shipment is a large cache of weapons that will be delivered to the Order of the Shadow. It is my understanding that their leader wishes to go to war with the previous order, and destroy them once and for all."

Swain had said this with such a casual ease that it had almost passed by his ears unheard. Luxanna, standing still like a stone statue in her hiding place, felt her eyes grow wide from what she had heard. She even pinched herself gently, to make sure that she wasn't in some sort of dream. This news was more than just big!

But… Why was the Grand General of Noxus revealing the details of a military operation? And doing it so casually as if he were asking for someone to tell him the scores of a League match?

"I want you to make sure these weapons are delivered with any problems," Swain continued, not caring about the shocked look he was getting from what he was saying. "But you must stop Ionia from being thrown into a civil war over them."

Zac simply stared at Swain, feeling beside himself. He wanted to shout out the most obvious question, that if he did not want a war breaking out, then why was he selling weapons in the first place!? And more importantly, why was he asking him to do something about it?

"I am a man with great but not unlimited resources," said Swain, suddenly with the intensity of a gathering storm. "The purchase of these weapons were made well within the rules and regulations set by the Institute of War, and I at the time had no reason to refuse. However, they have now become a burden to me in that they are being used by others to test my leadership over Noxus. I have plans in the making that I cannot be distracted from, and so, I want to stop this civil war before it starts."

"...And that's where I come in."

"That is where you come in," Swain repeated. "Your reputation precedes you as well, young man. You are a rare individual who does not shrink away from seeking the truth in things. You were born a weapon but choose to live the life of a man. I know that your concern for others is much greater than your disdain for people such as myself."

"That's a nice way of saying that you trust me to clean up your mess with care," Zac said, finally finding his voice.

"I'm not one to make idle compliments," Swain emphasized his words, with the same hinting menace that Katarina had shown earlier. "I know you will do everything in your power to prevent any violence from spreading."

Swain paused again, and scratched his chin in thought.

"If you still hesitate, perhaps there's something I can grant to persuade you further…?"

Zac frowned, trying to think of something. Anything that might give him some leverage. Because as things stood now, he would be on a cargo ship tomorrow alone against the world. Alone against a very big and dangerous world that owed him nothing in kindness and respect. Come to think of it, maybe Swain had already considered what he was going to ask.

"How many other Champions from the League are going to be part of this?"

"Four in total," confirmed Swain. "If you want something, say it."

"Katarina and I are two of them, right? I want to pick the other two."

"Hmmm. Ask no small favors, eh?" Swain scratched his chin again, but from across the table Zac knew that the tactician had already made up his mind. "All right, but I won't approve any Champions from Demacia. Don't make me explain why."

"That's fine," Zac answered, even though he wasn't sure at all. "Oh, and I'll need an extra day to make sure that my selections aren't busy with anything."

"That seems fair as well," Swain conceded, before standing up. Beatrice, who had been perched on Zac's shoulder for their conversation, finally took to the air and returned to the shoulder of her master. Raising a wrinkle and worn hand and petting the six-eyed raven affectionately, Swain gave one last confirming nod to Zac as he walked past to leave.

"I'll give you one day to prepare. I expect you to be ready to leave the morning after that."

"Understood," Zac said, resisting to urge to give a mock salute to Swain as he walked past.

He watched Swain leave to making sure that the tactician was far enough away for comfort. The library around him that had been filled with the soft murmurs of its occupants now seemed dead silent. Perhaps, out of morbid respect for the trouble he had just willingly consigned himself to.

_High Councilor Kolminye warned me, yet here I am._

Zac let out a deep breath. One much deeper than a mere sigh, and with enough force that he felt his entire body contract a little. There were some days where the Institute of War got a little smaller, which he hoped meant that he was becoming accustomed to his life there. Today was most definitely not one of those days.

_Is this really going to be the end of my lazy life here?_

What could he do about it?

He did have a morbid aversion to the idea of dying. Or being responsible for the deaths of others. He did mildly resent the fact that he was living a life that could get him killed at any moment, albeit in a different way that the same exact thing could happen outside a Field of Justice. Even if the magic of the Institute meant that he could never truly die, there was something unsettling about becoming used to such a thing.

But even so, doing the right thing was important to him.

It was a true conundrum; he was jeopardizing the reputation of an infallible Institution that gave no damns, by daring to exercise his Champion privilege to give a damn.

_I guess it was fun while it lasted. So… What next?_

He scratched his head, frowning again as he did. Where could he turn to? Who could he go to? One way or another time was ticking past, and he knew that time waited for no one except Zilean and a handful of powerful Summoners who probably abused their powers frequently.

_Okay, think. Crawl before you walk, and walk before you run._

Zac looked to the papers outlining his assignment Swain had left him.

"Hey, Lux."

He heard the sound of a few books being dropped on the other side of the towering shelves near him. This was quickly followed by even more, as if someone had smacked into the shelf and knocked over its contents onto the floor.

"I'm calling in a favor. You got a pencil on you?"

* * *

_Ahri walked down a dim night road, lit by a procession of torches that revealed a barren and desolate wasteland in front of her. Her hands, legs and body felt extremely heavy._

_Where am I going? Why am I still walking? What is this? Her dull brain thought, and she saw people shuffling around with heavy footsteps._

_Everyone's wearing mourning clothes. Ahri thought as she noticed that she was dressed in black too. She brought her hands to her face, and she could not feel her face, which troubled her. However, she could not stop, and could only continue on in the darkness. The stretch finally ended, and an open landscape just as arid and barren appeared in front of her, littered with countless gravestones._

_It was a stone cold graveyard. Ahri was amidst one of the rows of men and women lined beside the coffins. The people looked exceptionally tall, and the coffin obviously had someone important in it, but she could not see it, and could not get close at all. The coffin would soon be buried if she did not hurry up._

_With every step she took, she could hear the loud pumping of a heart. It was like she was in the body of another animal altogether, and her breathing was rushed as the ripping-like pain caused her to twist her body. Ahri sensed that her body and mind were separated; she was forced out of the woman in mourning clothes, who moved into the crowd. The black hat was knocked off, and the girl did not care about the black hair that was scattered and tied as she jumped into grave, sticking onto it._

" _Daddy…! Who did this to you!? Who killed you? I won't forgive those people who killed you, those people who looked like they don't know anything. If this is how the world is like, I'll hate the world. I'll use everything in my power to change the stupid world they created…!"_

_The girl stood at the bottom of the grave, clenching her fists till they were white as she looked at the adults looking down at her, cursing them. Who is that? Ahri stared at the girl, and at the next moment, she was grabbed from behind and restrained onto the floor._

_Several hands were grabbing onto her limbs, and a hand that was reaching from above grabbed her mouth. In an instant she was exposed before she could even struggle, and then, the heavy warmth that entered her abdomen caused her to feel despair._

_Ahh, it's coming again. This filthy feeling! Ahri told herself in her mind. The shadowy specters fought against her, pinning her down with their numbers. Tried as she might, there were too many for her to wrestle free from._

_Why they doing this to me? Why was I ever born? She asked herself._

" _There's no need for you to suffer." LeBlanc's voice spoke from behind the specters lunging at her. Ahri heard that voice as her body experienced the pain of being pulled in multiple directions._

" _Resist them. You have this kind of power."_

_"I can't do that. It's impossible for me." Ahri could not move her suppressed limbs as she gave LeBlanc a pleading look. "Please help me, tell them to stop."_

_LeBlanc gave her a cold observer stare._

_"No, you have to find an answer for yourself. I have no interests in the weak that forced themselves to submit. That kind of woman is only a mere tool for men."_

_The eyes that said this silently was dazzling beside the men's shoulders. Ahri again tried to exert strength on her limbs._

_"I can't move. My joints feel like snapping if I try to move them now."_

" _No good, is it? Why do succumbto them? You might as well destroy everything instead of letting their rules bind you. You have the power to rebuild this world. I have the authority you need, and you have the power I want. Go and fight, fight those people restraining you! Let those men who destroy each other kneel in front of the power that brings life into this world!"_

" _Life" — the only life that existed in this evolved body was her own._

_She exerted strength in her limbs. She pushed aside the hands clinging onto her, and grabbed the neck of the ghost reaching his hands at her. The force pushing at her waist got weaker, and as the man was forced to bend up, the fingers pressing into the throat felt something hard._

_"Take them down. Make those people who steal life suffer!"_

_Ahri was prompted by the voice in her mind as she crushed that stiff feeling._

_Crack._

_A blunt sound could be heard from her fingertips as the man's neck dropped weakly. Ahri got away from below the man before his spit and blood flowed out. Her shoulders were heaving up and down due to panting, and she looked for the other shadows. The phantoms who had restrained her and treated her violently unknowingly disappeared. There was nothing anymore except the darkness around her, the silence slowly defining her senses._

_With nothing else left, she broke away from the deep darkness and ran about the place without knowing where was up and bottom. No matter how she ran, the darkness showed no signs of fading away, and only the sense of killing remained on her fingers, gradually intensifying with every step._

And then, too suddenly, she had woken up.

In hindsight it had felt like something out of a book; a character having a strange premonition or out of body experience in their sleep, only to wake up violently and deeply disturbed by what they had seen. Ahri had jumped out of her silken sheets with her tails on end like angry snakes, her complimenting night gown moist with a thin layer of sweat.

Immediately she had stripped herself before running to the bathroom attached to her room. Starting the shower, she nearly tripped over herself in her haste to get in. She didn't care about the icy cold water hitting her body. Its sharp and prickly touch felt wonderful to her, and the more she began to wake up the more confident she felt that she was still alive.

Every miserably cold second she sat under the water was purifying her.

The suffocating heat and sweat from _their_ touch being purged from her body, and running down the drain never to be seen again.

The concept of dreaming was not foreign to her. Humans dreamt while they slept, and animals dreamt too. After spending her time at the Institute, maybe even robots and ghoulish abominations did too.

But were dreams supposed to be so _vivid?_ So _lucid_? So...disturbing?

Still heading to the Institute of War's eternal archives, she paid no heed to the familiar faces she passed or the words they spoke. Fighting on Summoner's Rift and her time with LeBlanc had let her push out the memories of that terrible dream, but now that she was free and alone the memories were coming back to haunt her without mercy

"This is all Morgana's fault," Ahri muttered under her breath, crossing her arms under her chest in discomfort. "I knew that nasty tea she gave me wasn't normal."

In her hands she clutched a small tin box, wrapped tightly in a white cloth held together by a knot of twine. She had gone out of her way to get it after leaving LeBlanc's company earlier. A secret weapon, she had told herself, just in case her target started to get a little too snippety.

The official title of the Institute's archives were the Great Unmoving Library; perhaps someone's strange idea to encourage the reputation the Institute had as an ancient hall of learning. Or maybe it was a tribute to the history collected in book volumes within. Such things hardly mattered to Ahri, since she usually had no business inside of it in the first place. As much as she liked to read, there was hardly any time for it with how busy her life had become.

Stepping up to the massive double doors that acted as the official entrance to the library, Ahri watched the invisible runes inscribed in them suddenly come to life at her presence. There were many parts of the Institute that had workings and systems invisible to the naked eye, and the library was no exception. The dull glow of the runes remained after a few seconds, eventually dimming out completely.

As they did, one of the jewels embedded in the ornately carved frame of the door began to glow. Without warning it cast a ray of light down on the ground in front of her, which slowly began to take shape of a human wearing Summoner's robes with the hood over their head.

"Please state your name and purpose," chimed the magic projection.

"Ahri," she answered dutifully before giving it a smug look. "And my reasons are my own."

The magic holograph stood still, the hooded face of the Summoner remaining unseen. Ahri tapped her foot impatiently, while drumming her fingers across her arm. Maybe sarcasm hadn't been the best choice since she was on a busy schedule.

"League Champion Ahri has been confirmed," the projection said after a few more seconds. "You may enter the Great Unmoving Library."

"Why thank you," Ahri said, her voice barely hiding her irritation at the delay.

As the doors of the library opened in a dramatically agonizing slow rate, Ahri waltzed into the Great Unmoving Library to continue her mission.

Now traipsing through with a skip in her step, she walked past Nasus without a word and gave him a friendly wave. At the sight of her, his usual sandstone gaze faltering uneasily into something marred between suspicion and unease.

Mildly amused at his reaction, Ahri continued on, heading for the back doors the lead to the outdoor gardens. If her intuition was right, which it usually was, her target would be outside and staring out at the setting sun with a miserable look on his face. Again she patted the cloth wrapped box in his arms tenderly, trying to suppress a devious smirk from crossing her lips. She was prepared with her own secret weapon for the Secret Weapon.

_Alright, now where is he?_

The light of the setting sun blinded her briefly as she stepped out, but didn't deter her from continuing forward. If her intuition was right he would be right where she wanted him; alone and exhausted from events earlier in the day. Easy prey for her seductive charms.

 _Bingo._ Ahri smirked, taking longer than she would have liked to find the large green jelly-man standing out like a sore thumb.

"...Hey."

Zac turned his head at her, before going back to looking at the sunset.

"Do you have a second?"

"Yeah, a lot of them," he said, not turning away from the view. "You want to borrow some too?"

Ahri stayed silent, out of refusal to humor his cancerous snark. He listened to her walk up behind him, the small bell tied around her modern hanbok gently ringing as she did. She joined him by sitting next to him on the open space still left on the wooden bench, somehow slipping all nine of her tails in through the back space without any trouble.

Looking up at him, Zac continued to stare outward at nothing but the sunset and city in front of them, as if he were purposefully ignoring her now.

Not bothering to wait for an invitation, she decided then and there to strike first.

"When I called you a living weapon, I want to take what I said back. It seemed that I misunderstood you."

"Misunderstood?"

"Misunderstood you for being a person trapped in your own little world."

Such unrestrained words caused Zac to be stunned. He stared at Ahri's face, who in turn looked like she didn't say anything wrong, and again he felt unhappy for being hit on an unexpected sore point. He wanted to ask point out to her that everyone was like that on some level, but decided not to push it further.

"Is there something wrong about living comfortably in this city?"

"That's not it. I apologize if my words do sound scathing…because I have never experienced living like this before. I'm still not used to it."

That somewhat shocked look on her face looked to him like that she had never expected her words to hurt other people. Not only did she look like one, but maybe she was still a strange human-like creature who was used to living in a completely different habitat. On their looks alone, it was obvious that she would be seen as more human than him. It was a strange coincidence that he would be privy to seeing her in a different light.

"How did you get involved in this?" Zac asked. This was the one question that appeared in his heart amongst a pile of questions.

"This?"

"This," he gestured to the sprawling city in front of them. "This mess."

"Because I wanted to be. I have my reasons." The wind blew Ahri's black braided hair as she casually spoke.

Now focused on her, Zac tentatively said, "Are you trying to become a mage?"

"A mage?"

"Yeah. Learn how to use magic and stuff like that from LeBlanc."

"…Yes. That's sort of true, but the real truth may be scarier than what you think."

Still sitting together with him with the world in front of them, Ahri gave him a wry smile. He didn't know whether that expression was either to mock his own nosey curiosity or herself. Thinking back, Zac thought about Morgana's story from earlier and swallowed his saliva. The fact that the world around him could degrade into something so terrible made his body run cold.

"I heard you're leaving soon for something big. Think you'll be ready?"

He didn't answer immediately; even though that was the only thing he was sure of.

"No."

"Good. That makes two of us then, right?"

"Yeah, well I—… Wait, what!?"

Zac felt his jaw drop out from being caught off guard, as a feeling of nasty deja vu flowed through him.

Not saying a word, Ahri sneakily slipped her arm through his own and gave him a devilish smile.


	9. Unstable Matters Chapter 8: I.S.C.P. (Part 1)

**Unstable Matters Chapter 8: I.S.C.P. (Part 1)**

_There's an old word from some spoken language called_ schadenfreude _, which roughly translates into the feeling that comes learning about the suffering of others. It's an elation accompanied by a twinge of guilt for feeling so good, followed by a quiet fervent prayer that something like that will never happen to you. Like when the enemy jungler tries to gank an ally in lane, only to watch their strategic process go to hell and back resulting in your teammate getting a double kill. Or when you manage to kill the Ancient Golem or Elder Lizard in the enemy jungle, and your yellow trinket lets you see the look on the enemy jungler's face when their buff camp is empty._

 _With only twenty-four hours to plan for stopping a civil war, I'm sure anyone watching me had a genuine_ schadenfreude _in their laps._

_I often wonder if Morgana and Kayle are communicating the events of our world back to their own kind. I can only imagine what they would think, arriving in a new dimension only to find all of the current occupants too busy whaling the tar out of each other to care about them._

_Sometimes I feel that there is so much planning and fighting going on around me, that no one is actually thinking._

* * *

_I knew letting Shyvana go top while Jarvan was jungling would pay off some day._

Momentarily impressed by his own foresight, Zac tapped his own chin absent-mindedly as he stared down at a map of Valoran spread on the table in front of him.

At his request, Luxanna had gone and passed the papers Swain had given him to...whoever represented Demacian military in the Institute of War. After talking with a her a few times before and after matches, it seemed to him that Luxanna Crownguard knew just about everything. He had read about her past, and was impressed by how she was both a prodigy in magic and military tactics from a very young age. But what stood out the most, was that the young girl had managed to keep her sanity while being fully aware of the consistent idiosyncrasies around her. Because of this, she had unwittingly earned his undying respect as someone whom talking to was not a complete and utter waste of time.

He hoped that his reward for turning in the sensitive documents publicly handed to him would put him in the loop to be clued in on any inconsistencies against what other city-states knew. Specifically, the kind that would put his life, or anyone else's, in danger. There was always a catch when it came to everything Noxians did, and the best he could hope for was that the catch wasn't about catching him.

All of this was just one step of many he had to take before his official leave.

Speaking with Luxanna to get more information had been his first step. Politely ditching Ahri and not getting knocked down any flights of stairs would be the second. Notifying his Institute caretakers that everything was going as they had predicted would be the third.

Unfortunately for him, the second step was being very stubborn.

"Could you pass me that pencil?"

"This is all a trap, you know. It has to be."

Pinching the pencil handed to him between his large fingers, he began to scribble notes on the map of Valoran.

"I know."

"Some sort of evil plan to take over the world!"

Writing in silence, Zac reached over for the pencil sharpener on the table.

"Could be."

"But… Are they really selling weapons to the Order of the Shadow?"

Sharpening his pencil to a satisfactory point, he began writing where he had left off.

"Who knows."

"And the Institute approved it? I can't believe that!"

Scratching out a name here and there, he flipped the pencil over and erased some of his writing.

"It's not that surprising."

"I wish you would take this more seriously."

He stopped writing and looked up at her.

"I am."

"No you're not. I mean it."

Zac continued to stare at Ahri with a probing distrust, and she did the same right back but with a disapproving frown.

From the library's gardens she had followed him back to his apartment, attached to his hip the entire time like a leech. Walking back into the ruins of what had been his neat and orderly home, the first order of business had been to try to find some sort of surface he could write on. Preferably one that wasn't part of something that had been destroyed.

Ignoring the mystery trail of half eaten food leading to his kitchen from the front door, he found himself sitting back down on the couch across from where he had hosted Katarina earlier. Now, only a few hours later, he was playing host to an assassin of a very different nature.

"I mean it too."

"You say that, but you don't mean it."

Giving up, he went back to his writing.

"How do you know that?"

"I don't know how you can joke about this when innocent lives are at stake."

It was hard for him to tell if she was being serious or not, since the pouting face she always put on never seemed to change.

"Yeah, mine included."

"There you go again! How can you crack jokes about this?"

He gave her a dubious look, not sure if she was joking.

"You thought that was a joke?"

"I don't know. You always have such a serious face on that never changes."

He couldn't argue with that, Zac slowly realized. He had never bothered to check for himself, but it just seemed like one of those things his own hesitant reaction proved as true. Again, in the same night, he had been caught off guard at frank truth behind Ahri's stark observations.

Reaching over to the table between them, he picked up his half of the large sandwich on a small plate and took a large bite out of it. A rush of flavors hit him all at once, and he suppressed a groan in delight at the taste. The food served at the Institute itself was mediocre, but the restaurants and stores in the city surrounding it always had incredible things for sale. Without doing anything, the bread crumbs all along his lower jaw were slowly absorbed into his body. He was finally getting that snack he craved since early in the morning, and it had come from the most unexpected source.

When Ahri had handed him a small cloth wrapped box and told him to open it, he hadn't known what to expect. He had heard of the phrase "beware of Noxians bearing gifts" before, and it was safe to say that the phrase extended to nine-tailed foxes with soul draining magic powers too.

But a free meal was a free meal, and it was a really good-looking one at that. Even with all the craziness that constantly surrounded him, he still wasn't paranoid enough to look at a delicious sandwich like there was an evil plot planted between the bread too.

"Why do you want to come with me?"

Ahri blinked from the sudden question directed at her out of the blue.

"Do you have to ask? Ionia is my homeland!"

"...Is that why you're registered as an independent Champion with the League?"

"What!? No—! You—!"

He watched Ahri's face contort in frustration and from something...else. Something he couldn't read, and he felt a small twinge of guilt hit him. It seemed that he had accidentally hit a sore spot without meaning to. He remembered what Ahri had said earlier in the day, and her mood back then as well. He could imagine many of the Ionian Summoners and Champions wanting nothing to do with someone as...unique...as her. After all, she was probably one of the last Champions to fit the confirmed Ionian image of reserved modesty in everything.

For every one question answered, there were a hundred more unresolved.

"I'm sorry," he apologized quickly. "Look, I just need to know if you're being honest with me."

"What? Don't you trust me?" she asked indignantly, a tone very different from the playful one she teased newer Summoners with.

"No."

"Spoilsport." Ahri stuck her tongue out at him, closing her eyes as she did. "You're being so serious all of a sudden. Is our date over already?"

"In twenty-four hours I'm going to have a large fraction of the world on my shoulders. That gives me the right to be serious."

"As if you needed that before," she gave a loud snort, and rolled her eyes at him patronizingly.

"How can I trust you if you're not honest with me?" he continued, ignoring her contempt. "How do I know you're not a spy for LeBlanc or something like that?"

"Just because I'm taking lessons from her, doesn't mean I'm worshiping that old hag's feet." Ahri waved his concerns off. "I'll learn what I want from her, and then ditch her."

Zac felt himself frowning from listening to her carefree concerns. Now he was even more confused if she was being serious with him.

There was something about magic practitioners like LeBlanc that always put him on edge, and it wasn't because of her lofty goals. Putting it simply, she was a dark arts master who never hesitated to use her powers to get what she wanted. Not only that, but she was the leader of an ancient clandestine order made up of an unknown number of mages, some of which were comparable in talent to many Summoners in the League. What if LeBlanc had already asked Swain to promote members of the Black Rose to the magic ranks of the Noxian military?

Worse off, despite all the measures the Institute took to secure its grounds, it wasn't too uncommon for incidents involving black magics to come up from time to time. Like that strange withering virus that had infected certain Champions around two years ago. When it came to circumventing League rules through barely legal means, Champions like LeBlanc were the leading authority on the subject.

Hell, it wouldn't have surprised him if she could spy on them in his own home somehow.

"...I don't think I've said it yet. But...thank you."

"Hmm?" Ahri blinked at him, before laying down across the length of the couch. As she did, her nine tails spread themselves out like an open fan behind her. "What for?"

"For keeping me company. I know I'm not a very good host."

"Ooh, ho ho ho. That's rich. You don't have to be so polite, you know. I know what you're really thinking about me." She laughed loudly, her tone making no effort to hide her own mocking contempt for him.

"I doubt that."

"You probably think I'm a pest, don't you?"

Zac thought about her words, trying to remember if he had thought of that specific word throughout the day.

"No."

"You don't think I'm annoying?"

"No."

"You don't think I'm crazy?"

"No."

"...Then I can come with you?"

"No," Zac said, shooting her down flat for the last time. "I still don't trust you."

"I bet I can change that, if you give me a chance." Ahri batted her eyelashes at him while smiling faintly, like so many times before. "You don't have to be so cynical. Lighten up a little."

Before he could think of something more cynical to say, just to spite her, Zac felt a strange tingle run up his back and to the tip of the tentacle on his head. The static touch of a mental link being established through magic, similar to how Summoners made sure they were connected to their Champions before matches. It was a strange sensation to describe, almost as if someone were running ice up along his back and to his head.

" _Sir. All of the members of the I.S.C.P. have been assembled. We are waiting for your arrival."_

A strange monotone and emotionless voice spoke to him through the link. It reminded him of Orianna's voice, cold, mechanical, and indifferent, despite that the person behind it was undoubtedly human.

 _I'll be there, but I'm kind of stuck here. Can you do something about it?_ He thought to himself, which he hoped meant that he was actually saying it out loud to whoever was on the other end of the link. It was weird how certain magics worked in the Institute, and he was never sure that he was doing things right on his end.

" _...Understood. Try to find a place where we can teleport you here discretely."_

_Alright. I think I have an idea. Give me a few minutes to get ready._

"...Are you listening to me!? Hello?"

Ahri's irritated voice pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up at her, noticing how her nostrils were flaring in a look of savage disdain from being ignored.

"I'm sorry, I've got a lot of my mind," Zac apologized, picking up his pencil and continuing to scratch out writings on the map from where he had left off. "What were you saying?"

"I asked, what have you been writing?"

Zac rubbed his own chin in thought, looking up and down between Ahri and his work.

"It's complicated."

"Then explain to me."

He continued to rub his own chin, looking up and down between Ahri and his work again.

"...It's _really_ complicated."

"Then explain it to me _slowly_."

She was persistent, he had to admit with a bit of professional esteem. Even if she was spying just to try to score points with LeBlanc, maybe something had changed once she had learnt about what he was up against. Maybe out of pity? Or just sympathetic curiosity? That was the problems with Champions like her that were similar to himself; there were no loyalties to be had when you had no real responsibilities to anyone or any group. How long would it be before she lost interest in him, and pursued whatever shallow interests that caught her eye next?

Did she really have any potential like they had suggested?

"I'm writing out how I think other city-states will react once the news of this deal goes out," Zac explained, pointing to the center of the map of Valoran between them.

"There will be two official statements on the matter two days from now, on the afternoon I leave. One from the Institute, and the other from the Noxian High Command."

Ahri stayed silent, waiting patiently for him to continue.

Thinking for a second, he then moved his finger from the Institute of War over to the left side of the map.

"Demacia has tried to predict what direction Swain is going to take the High Command after the Crystal Scar incident. All of their predictions, I think, have been greatly exaggerated compared to what has actually happened. With this new deal being announced, I'm wondering if the crown will concern themselves with it since they've been unable to turn up anything time and time again. Or maybe it will just make them try harder. I don't know."

With his pencil in his other hand, he quickly wrote down the names Luxanna Crownguard and Jarvan Lightshield IV before drawing a line to the opposite side of the continent.

"Swain approved this deal because he is testing the capability of Noxus to fill a large-scale weapons order without outside assistance. This is part of a multi-step plan to reorganize the economic structure of his city-state, away from the aggressive model that required that Noxus be ready to make war on any location in Valoran at any time. In return for his political immunity as a Champion, Swain is forcibly curving future Noxian diplomacy to always involve the Institute of War."

Next to Noxus, he wrote down the words Du Couteau and Black Rose with question marks attached to each. Across from him he could feel the intensity of Ahri's stare as she listened to him in an apprehensive silence.

A little amused at how quickly he had managed to rein in her interest, he drew a line connecting Noxus and Zaun together.

"The biggest victim of this restructuring won't be anyone in Noxus, but probably the profiteers in Zaun who have made careers out of catering to the Noxian war machine. If it's true that up to half of Zaun's economy comes from research and development contracts tied with Noxus, a change in the High Command's spending habits could be devastating for them. I have the feeling that the authorities in Zaun aren't going to simply let us get on that freighter without some sort of trouble."

Immediately as he had finished, he drew a line across from Zaun and added a large question mark over it.

"Piltover is the unpredictable one out of this bunch. In the past Demacia and Piltover have worked together, but only because Piltover wants to snub Zaun for working so closely with Noxus. If it's true that Zaun might collapse economically in the foreseeable future, Piltover might resist Demacian requests to maintain their autonomy and pick up business from Zaun's ruins. A lot of Champions from Piltover probably wouldn't want anything to do with Noxus, but having good ethics doesn't pay bills."

He dropped his pencil on the map, and reached over for the rest of his sandwich off to the side. Greedily he stuffed the entire remains into his mouth, not even bothering to chew it and letting it slide whole down his throat and into his gullet.

"Last, but still very important, is what deal Swain will want to work out with Bilgewater. It's no secret that Bilgewater is the least stable city-state on Valoran, and calling anything built on Blue Flame Island a 'city' in a stretch. Gangplank and Sarah Fortune have plans to build up the island into a true city-state, but I'm not sure if that would fit into Swain's overarching vision for his future. The Guardian Sea is Noxus' own backyard pond, and dealing with a city-state full of disorganized pirates starved for gold is a lot safer than one with a dedicated naval fleet."

Stopping with an exhausted sigh of displeasure, he purposefully pressed the pencil down on the map after circling Bilgewater and snapped the sharpened tip with a small crack.

"And that's all I've got so far," he explained, getting up to leave. "So if you'll excuse me."

Watching him leave, Ahri snapped out of her complacent stupor with a shake of her head.

"Hey! Where are you going?" she called out to him.

"To the bathroom," Zac said, not bothering to stop. "Please don't follow me there too. Please."

"Don't even think about sneaking out the window, because we're not done here," Ahri called out to him, mercifully deciding to stay sprawled out on his furniture. He would never admit it to her, but the idea had crossed his mind. "And don't make me chase you! Because you know I will."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered just loud enough for her to hear.

"I mean it! I'm not done with you! You're important to me, so powder your nose and come back."

That last part would have been more flattering if it weren't for the fact that she probably didn't give a damn about him. Or maybe she did, in her weird way of doing things. The weird unexplainable mind of a soul draining seductress, who never gave any damns except when she did, and who never gave any signs or cues about what she was thinking without meaning to.

Really though, none of that mattered. The unexpected bombardment of new information he had hit her with had the desired effect, and now he had a chance to be alone with no one else in the Institute watching him. No one except his faceless caretakers, who he hoped hadn't forgotten about him already.

Opening the bathroom door and closing it behind him, he didn't even bother turning on the lights or anything. Quietly focusing his inner voice, he took a deep breath and readied himself.

 _Alright Summoners. Whenever you're ready. And try to keep the_ _noise_ —

Without warning Zac was hit with a thunderous whoosh, and surrounded by a purple light that was descending from the skies above piercing the roof of his home. Just like the Recall and Teleport spells used by Summoners on Summoner's Rift, he could feel himself being lifted into the air ever so slightly. And just like both spells, the effects of casting them were anything but subtle.

Even inside the bathroom with the dull roar of magic around him, he heard a loud crash followed by an equally loud cuss being shouted in pain. Then some very hasty footsteps, quickly heading his way.

He looked down at his feet, and saw the rings around him slowly expanding in number. Two. Three. Four. He knew that before Ahri could make it to the door to find out what was going on, he would be long gone with no trace that he was ever even there.

...But just for the hell of it, he reached out and locked the bathroom door anyway.

Deciding against shouting any sarcastic goodbyes he would regret later, he waited patiently as he was pulled into the sky with the world below him rapidly shrinking in size.

* * *

"Outrageous! Truly, truly, truly outrageous."

Zac could hear voices speaking as the magic behind the teleport Summoner spell begin to wear off around him. It was weird being pulled across the Institute from magic power alone, almost as if he were being sucked into a magical vacuüm chute and dumped out somewhere else. And as expected of being dumped out like slime in a pipe, when he reached his destination he landed hard with a loud splat.

Traveling with magic was an amazing, yet, horrifying experience all at the same time. If one knew how many factors went into how such magic worked, then you inadvertently knew how many things could go wrong that would mean terrible things they did. Getting picked up and dropped off at a place you did not want to be at was the least of potential problems. Becoming trapped in the arcane flows that the Institute's nexus' powered where creatures like Nocturne spawned was another. Or, alternatively, being picked up and never coming out at all was another.

Looking around as he began to restructure himself, he recognized the room around him as a dimly lit Reflection Chamber.

For these meetings he attended the location never seemed to change. Maybe there was something symbolic about hosting it in one of the most notorious places Champions knew in the Institute, but it also seemed like a shallow and pointless thing to do.

Lined in up a row were twelve seats, all filled except his own. By some magic trick or otherwise, each seat was lit in a way that each occupant could see the others, but not much else in the Reflection Chamber. Again, whatever symbolic or artistic merit this design had was lost on him.

"I mean no offense, as it is an honor to be here with you all," Taric said, the blue jewels in the Gem Knight's armor shining radiantly even if the shadows of the Reflecting Chamber. "But there must be a better way than to simply demand we show up on someone's beck and call."

"Yes! They called us here, so what's the hold up?" Ryze closed his spell book with a loud thump. "I don't have all day for this to start."

"That's right. I have a patrol to complete tonight, and I have no time for these games." Shuana Vayne agreed, dressed in her normal bodysuit and attire she wore on and off the Fields of Justice. Fiddling with her arm-mounted crossbow, she pulled out one of her silver bolts from a waist quiver and began inspecting with a keen eye.

"On the contrary, we all have a lot of time." Zilean commented, stroking his beard as he did. "Actually, how many times have we done this already? I keep forgetting."

"Hey, does anyone know if drinks will be served?" Yasuo asked, holding his flask upside down and shaking it. Slouching back in his seat, the wind wielding samurai kicked his sandals feet up on the table in front of them all.

"Hey, I know a good place to get a drink," said Jax, his trademark brass lamppost leaning on the side of his seat just in reach. "We can hit it after this. I hear Gragas has a new flavor of Graggy Ice coming out."

"Grabbing the bull by the horns, huh? Let's not make plans before this even starts," Alistar adjusted himself in his seat, the Minotaur's massive frame causing his chair to creak and moan as it resettled his weight. "We don't even know why we're here yet."

"I agree. This clearly isn't a normal meeting, so does anyone know why we're here?" Lucian said, toying around with both of his Lightslinger pistols in each hand. "We all have things to do and places to be. This must be serious if they're calling us together like this."

"Ahem."

All heads turned to the sound calling their attention. Nasus continued to stare down at the book in his large hands, flipping the page once without care for their stares.

"I believe it has something to do with the green one," he said, not bothering to even look up from his reading. "I have noticed that he has become very...popular...as of late."

Walking up to take his seat, Zac shot Nasus a look, now feeling the inquisitive stares of everyone in the room save for the few that were polite enough to restrain themselves. He groaned out loud, not knowing what to say that could somehow pacify so many personalities with different expectations.

"It's complicated," he finally said, giving up on thinking of anything else. He shrugged and crossed his arms in frustration.

The only two members who hadn't said anything were Twisted Fate and Riven. Both sat unmoving and not speaking, maybe with something more pressing on their minds. He was thankful for that, not that the others in the room were renown for their outspoken personalities.

" _You hate weapons, and the people who use them. Yet how can you hope to achieve your goals without them?"_

Trying to settle down and not be overly self-conscious from the stares he was still getting, a sudden wave of nostalgia washed over him. It was the same thing he felt every time he sat down and waited for these meetings to begin. He could hear High Councilor Kolminye in his head, her voice repeating the same words she had said when they had first met.

It hurt to admit it, but she had his personality pegged from the start.

His time in the Reflection Chamber hadn't been like other Champions. He had read stories of Champions being forced to look back into their past, facing their inner demons, or something crazy stuff like that. Having their mind probed and read, recited back to them like someone was reading a manuscript. But the Institute of War already knew everything they needed to know about him, so making him look back into a past he didn't regret was redundant.

What they wanted to know was how useful he could be to them.

Not only that, but maybe if he could find it in himself to take pride in working for them.

" _Look around you. Say what you want about their looks and personalities, but they are all very good at what they do. Could you beat them all with your bare hands? No. You would need a weapon."_

He hadn't yet met any of the Champions that he would come to know one by one back then. All he had heard about were their stories in the news, or over hextech radio broadcasts played out and over the streets of the Institute's city. Wild stories of exotic adventures, beings wielding amazing powers, and incredible feats of skill. There were also stories of dangerous monsters, other worldly abominations, and other horrible things from the past.

Everything seemed to have a place in the League, from mages commanding incredible arcane powers, to dedicated soldiers fighting for their city-states. Hell, even mercenaries were there, always ready to fight for the highest bidder.

" _You hate the idea of being a weapon, but could you give it up?"_

Kolminye's words had hit their mark. It was something he hadn't put much thought into, maybe out of some unwarranted blind optimism that his exotic nature would cut it fighting in the League.

" _No you can't. You may hate weapons more than anyone, but that doesn't matter in the end. You know better than anyone how necessary it is to be strong. You should put aside your self-loathing, and be true to your own potential."_

Potential. Now there was a word that could be twisted and folded to fit anyone's needs.

" _I'm not blind to the irony. Me telling you that we're trying to create peace by managing war."_

The idea had seemed ludicrous at first. But the longer he lived in the Institute, and the more fights he fought in the League, it began to slowly make sense.

" _Stick with us. We can teach you how to satiate your hate without giving up who you are."_

But before his disgruntled trip down memory lane could continue, the same soft and mechanical voice that had called him earlier began speaking out loud to everyone.

"I confirm that all twelve members of the Institute's Special Champion Pool are now present. The seventh meeting of the I.S.C.P. can now begin."


	10. Unstable Matters Chapter 9: I.S.C.P. (Part 2)

** Unstable Matters Chapter 9: ISCP (Part 2) **

Twelve seats, each filled with a Champion of the League of Legends.

A minotaur of incredible strength, and survivor of countless gladiatorial battles.

A mysterious mercenary with the longest undefeated streak in the League's history.

An incredibly skilled pistol wielding exorcist, always keeping his eyes on the monsters hiding in the shadows.

An ancient guardian from another dimension, who works to maintain peace in his new home.

An ex-soldier walking her broken blade down a path toward redemption.

A mage protecting forbidden knowledge that could lead to the destruction of the world.

A noble gem-powered knight, who has dedicated himself to helping those in need.

A magic gypsy with a pair of skillful hands that could cheat the devil himself.

A dark knight, who relentlessly hunts the wicked abusers of black magic.

A samurai walking the lonely road of justice, only leaving the corpses of his pursuers in his wake.

A bio-weapon that has decided that he didn't like being one.

And last but not least, the sole survivor of Urtistan, whose experimentations with temporal magic have accidentally blessed him with immortality.

Hovering in the air like haunting specters, the Summoners chairing the meeting stood separated from the Champions. The room they were all in was perfectly divided in half by the large sterile table between them, made of something that was similar to Blitzcrank's strange futuristically polished skin. Magical devices stored in the table hummed quietly, setting the stage for everything to begin.

Flanked by two of her juniors on each side, Vessaria Kolminye, one of the three members of the Council of Equity, stepped forward out from the shadows. She remained concealed by her robes through the use of some sort of magic, making it appear as if they were being worn by someone unseen.

"Champions, you have my thanks for coming immediately when asked," Kolminye began, and the Summoners on both of her flanks bowed their heads along with her when she did. "As of a show of my respect for your time, let us skip the formalities and get straight to the issue at hand."

She then pointed straight at Zac, motioning for him to get up and come over toward her.

"Secret Weapon. Please explain to everyone here what happened earlier this afternoon."

Zac grimaced again, feeling the stares of nearly everyone on him. Standing up obediently, he shuffled over to the table between all of the Champions present and the Summoners looking down on them all.

"Uh… Right, well, if you remember from our last meeting," Zac started off, waiting and watching as the magical display changed it's image right behind him. From the Institute of War, it changed to an view of Noxus from some balding hilltop outside of the city. All of the different districts could be seen to a varying degree, but what stood out the most was the human skull carved out into the stone mountain that was home to the High Command. One of the most infamous, if not the most, sights in all of Noxus for anyone visiting. Other than a tasteless display of gritty might, the height and size of it meant that anyone from any part of the city-state would have it looming over their heads their entire lives. An unsubtle reminder of how tied the military command was to the identities all Noxians.

"We were all talking about the changes being made to the High Command's structure, now that the Darkwill lineage has been removed from power. There were some ideas about how Swain would remodel the hierarchy now that he's Grand General, but we couldn't be sure until he started actually making some moves toward anything."

"And that's what this is about?"

Zac turned to see Riven staring right at him, her eyes matching a completely humorless look on her normally soft features. For a second he felt a chill run down his spine, knowing that he was stepping on eggshells.

"It's more than that," Kolminye interrupted, outline still shadowed by magic. "Something has happened that runs contrary to many of the theories we predicted. Now please continue, Secret Weapon."

He had turned to face Kolminye when she had started speaking, maybe in hopes that she would spare him from the scrutiny of his peers. But seeing how that wasn't to be the case, he turned back around and waiting for the magic projection to change again.

"Right, well… This afternoon, I was ambushed by Katarina Du Couteau and Talon in my home—"

"Hold it. You said 'in' your home?" Vayne interrupted, an eyebrow raised in interest behind her red tinted glasses.

"Correct," Kolminye boomed once again, and Zac turned around once more. If she was going to keep explaining things for him, then why not brief everyone herself? Or was it to just to play to the image that those managing the Institute of War knew everything? "Both assassins were able to bypass the defensive runes placed inside of the building. We are still investigating how."

"Lovely," Vayne said, the disgust dripping from her voice. "Have you no shame? When will this Institute stop underestimating Noxian devilry with dark magics?"

"The incident has yet to be confirmed as involving dark magic," the Summoner to the right of Kolminye countered, with a hint of frustration in his voice from Vayne's biting accusations. "Night Hunter, as much as your services have helped us strengthen the security of this Institution, not everything is something for you to be concerned with."

"That has yet to be seen," Vayne said, brushing him off. "Don't expect me to clean up your mess wh—"

"Yeah! Great! So like I was saying!" Zac said, just loud enough to make his point clear. Choosing to stop herself, Vayne settled back down in her seat and put the attentive but silent mask she always wore. "...Katarina and Talon broke into my apartment with an offer from Swain," he continued. "They're asking me to act as a Champion escort for some deal they worked out with the Order of the Shadows."

"Ninjas, huh?" Yasuo let out a groan from his seat. "Of course it's ninjas. Ninjas are always trouble."

"The deal has already been authorized by the Institute," Kolminye said, taking over again. The images behind Zac changed, and he turned to look at them too. The wall was now painted with some kind of diagram or schematic, parts of some sort of complicated hextech sword weapon things he knew nothing about. Looking it over harder, he couldn't tell how to hold the thing never mind how to use it. "Since this deal was negotiated through the Institute of War from Champion to Champion, the Ionian Council of Elders have no say in this matter."

 _Well that explains that_ , Zac thought to himself, the question of why he hadn't heard anything from any of the Ionian Champions. His thoughts drifted back to Ahri, and he wondered if her sentiments had been more genuine than he originally thought.

"Seems to be that Ionia is part of our little game, but still needs to learn the rules," Twisted Fate commented. "You have to hand it to that old dog. Using the Institute as a medium was downright clever."

"And that is where the problem lays. Jericho Swain has gone through considerable lengths to make sure that every aspect of this deal was laid out to the Institute in advance." With a wave of her hands more magical displays appeared, this time displaying some of the pictures Swain had included in the papers he had given Zac. Even the gigantic iron washtub ship from earlier was there, but with a much more detailed diagram of its insides.

"If there is some sort of subversive plan, then at the moment we have no way of proving what it will be."

"What does this have to do with us?" Ryze asked bluntly. "Not all of us here care about the petty acts of city-states against each other. Aren't there enough problems in this world?"

"But you said 'proving,' just now? Didn't you?" Taric said, leaning forward in curiosity.

Kolminye nodded, as did the shadowed Summoners to her immediate sides. "Correct. We have no evidence of what Noxus is planning, but we believe we know what their aims are. This is why we have called you here tonight. We believe this is the beginning of a plot that could be devastating to the integrity of the Institute of War."

"Hmm. How ominous," Nasus said, the bored look on his canine features running counter to any concern in his voice. "Those are words not spoken lightly. I hope you will tell us more about this...unseen threat."

"In due time, Champions. For now we must focus on our own preparations."

Kolminye swept her arms out in a broad stroke, with everything that had revealed themselves returning to the shadows. Not waiting for an explanation, Zac walked back and took his seat.

"Secret Weapon has already accepted Swain's offer. We know that Katarina, the Sinister Blade, will be the one heading the mission. As part of negotiations, he was given permission to pick two other League Champions that will join him on this journey. Although these events may seem unconnected to your own reasons for working with us, we expect every one of you to be ready and willing to aid another member of the I.S.C.P. if and when they need it."

The still silence from his compatriots was so stagnant that he could hear the soft hums of the technomagical devices spread throughout the room. It was funny to think that the eleven Champions around him were sulking over the idea that their upcoming weekend plans could be ruined, as unlikely as that seemed. Hopefully, by some mercy, everyone around him would be as reliable outside of the Institute as they were on any Field of Justice. If not, then his trip was going to be either incredibly boring, or incredibly short.

"Every one of you understands how important this Institution is to the safety of our world. Just as the twelve of you have been granted special privileges that other Champions have not, when the time comes, we trust that you will act in the interest of preserving this Institution."

Ten lights for ten teleporting Champions. In another brilliant cascade of arcane power, light suddenly flooded into the Reflection Chamber from the heavens above and engulfed the other members of the I.S.C.P. Some of them stood up in preparation to leave, while others remained seated, probably in the same position as they had been scooped up in.

Just as fast as they had all arrived, they were gone. At the same time, the Summoners that had accompanied Kolminye disappeared. Whatever devices or spells they had been using to attend the meeting, disconnected from their end. No parting words said; no sounds at all.

From up above them all where she had been chairing the meeting, Kolminye stood up and began descending down invisible steps toward him. Zac remained seating in his own large chair, rocking back and forth on its base absentmindedly.

Folding her slender hands into the long sleeves of her robes, Kolminye took the last step down and started walking toward him. Her robes carried in them some sort of magic veil that all elite council members wore. Every time he talked with her, it was as if he were conversing with a ghost in a robe.

"Secret Weapon, a word if you will?"

"Since I didn't get a free ride out, I don't think I have a choice," Zac commented noting how quietly everyone had left despite their differences.

Instead of a reply, all he got was a raised open palm, before the same human hand pointed to the seat next to him. Zac looked at her quizzically, mouthing a silent question for an explanation her way, before looking back at the seats where the other Champions had been.

Sure enough, sitting with her arms crossed and a small frown on her face, Riven looked at them both with a hint of irritation from having not been noticed earlier.

"Do have something to say, Exile?" Kolminye ventured to ask, breaking the silence.

"I want to join him on this mission," Riven said, stepping up to them both and pointing to Zac as she did.

"You can't be serious," Zac blurted without thinking.

"I am!" Riven spat back at him sharply, making him wince. She then turned to Kolminye, before continuing.

"You probably want another member of our group to join him, right? Well I volunteer myself!"

Zac and Kolminye exchanged looks, saying nothing as they did. They both stayed silent as seconds continued to tick past, and Riven wondered if they were now communicating telepathically with some sort of magic. She stood waiting in a silent defiance, the determined look on her face unwavering despite their unreceptive reactions.

"Are you sure, Exile?" Kolminye finally asked, in a much more gentle tone. "You would be coming face to face with many demons of your past."

"I know, but this isn't something I can just let go by." Riven balled her sword hand into a fist, raising the clenched oversized gauntlet in a show of strength. "I'm done wandering. If I'm ever going to make amends for the past, I need to keep living in the present."

Kolminye nodded sympathetically, and let slip a low hum in consideration. Still standing next to her, Zac felt himself glaring at her in disgust. He doubted she cared about any good intentions of Riven, misguided or otherwise, and was just thinking how she could be added into her plans. Maybe it was the fact that the more complicated things could get, the more he would have to rely on the Institute of War for guidance.

"We will consider your request," Kolminye finally spoke, waving her hand to dismiss her. "I will contact you once we have decided. If you mean what you say, I expect you to be prepared by tomorrow morning."

"I understand." Riven get a curt nod back to her, but only glanced at Zac. "All I ask is that you take my request seriously."

"We will have to see," Kolminye said, in a much more neutral tone that he preferred. "Go enjoy your evening, Exile."

For the second time a deep purple light broke through the ceiling, striking Riven and engulfing her as it hit the ground of the Reflection Chamber. Her white dress and tattered linens she always wore blew a bit from an unseen wind, before the spell finished and whisked her away. Through the spell's casting time she had remained silent, but there was something about her insistent stare directed at him that unnerved him a little.

"Did something happen between you two?" Kolminye suddenly asked him after she was gone, pulling Zac of his thoughts. "She was looking at you this entire meeting. Very intensely, at that."

"Not that I remember," he answered honestly, shrugging as he did. "Nothing out of the ordinary. I've tried to kill her, she's killed me. Just the usual."

"Tried?"

"Tried," Zac repeated, not wanting to focus too much on the past. "Something weird happened in a match, and I ended up letting her live after I should have killed her. I played the whole thing off as a communication error between me and my Summoner, but now I'm wondering if I bruised her pride, or something."

"...Is that all?"

Zac scratched the back of his head, letting out a low groan as he did.

"Well, there was one other thing…"

"Go on," Kolminye said, not bothering to hide the piqued feminine interest in her voice. He knew immediately that he had spoken too much about something that would only cause stupid problems in the future.

"Someone got it in their heads to link us together in one of those fliers Summoners get about costume sales," Zac said, reminiscing about the past. "They titled it, 'Bunny and the Beast,' or something cheesy like that. I didn't even know about it until Riven confronted me. She kept going on about tabloids this and tabloids that, and how she didn't want people getting the wrong idea from it."

To his surprise, Kolminye let a small snicker slip before breaking out into a light laugh.

"Ooh, that poor thing. She takes everything so seriously, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yeah, well, it would be the pot calling—" Zac started, but then stopped when he remembered that he was speaking with someone who could find everything she ever wanted one way or another anyhow. "Hey, wait a damn minute. You're not considering her request, right?" Zac said, her sudden silence acting as a warning sign that he was losing control of his own fate. "Bringing her along would be a terrible idea. A Noxian deserter joining me on a Noxian arms deal orchestrated by their High Command, into a country she fought a war against?"

"You underestimate her strength of character," Kolminye said, waving a hand as if to waft away his statement. "She is famous across Valoran for unique sense of justice that runs contrary her upbringing and heritage. Riven is a shining example of an heroine with a muddied past in search for redemption, and the Ionian people will see that."

Zac nodded understandingly as he mulled over her points.

"No, I'm sure it's still a terrible idea. Did you remember that we're stopping at Zaun first? Home to the people who ruined her life? What makes you think she's even going to make it to Ionia?"

"Then who were you thinking about?"

"I was… Thinking about Yasuo, and someone else. You know, someone who knows the land?"

"Do you think he would fare any better?" Kolminye asked, and Zac wondered if she had pulled him away from his second point on purpose. "Do _you_ know that the School of the Wind still seeks his head for the death of that Ionian Elder?"

He blinked at what she had said, slowly processing it in his head for a few seconds. He had heard everything that the League had published about Yasuo with his entry as a Champion; all part of the standard routine for combat with and against him on a Field of Justice. Ignoring the sympathetic aspects of the story, it was well known that all Champions were granted immunity from any looming problems in their past the moment they were accepted by the Institute of War. Had the people from Yasuo's past actually petitioned the Institute to hand him back over to them, despite everything that was known to the world?

"Are you serious?" was all he could think to ask at the revelation.

"Quite." Something about how Kolminye was acting made it seem to him as if she would be rolling her eyes right now. But with the magic veil that all elite council members wore, it still looked to him as if were conversing with a ghost in a robe.

"Do still they really think he did it? Killing that Elder with his wind techniques?"

"What? No, of course not. The entire chase is to save face for their school, so that the Council of Elders will continue to hire them as part of their security entourage."

"What!? Are you serious?" he repeated again.

She nodded, knowingly. "It's all politics, I'm sure you can imagine. The poor fool never had any chance to prove his innocence from the start."

"You're telling me that he killed his own brother for nothing?"

"Sad, isn't it? But who knows? Maybe it's better this way. He was probably jealous of Yasuo his entire life, anyway."

Something about how casually Kolminye could explain a tragedy as if she explaining to a server how she liked her coffee prepared irked him a little. But maybe that was something that come with her position; the ability to distance yourself from every little or large tragedy that hit her desk every morning.

Maybe she was a victim of circumstance herself. There was always the possibility that she had never expected to come to power as she did. After the mysterious circumstance surrounding the disappearance of Reginald Ashram, Relivash had filled his position until evidence from the Crystal Scar incident at Kalamanda emerged. He had read the papers about it long before he had joined the League, and even in his youth Zac knew how the impact of events had shaken the continent to its core. Evidence that a member of the Council of Equity, the highest adjudications appeals court in the world, had taken steps to instigate a war between two city-states.

It was ironic really, to think that all of this had happened because the Institute of War was doing its job too well. So much so that one of its leaders had decided to try and spark an artificial war, just to remind the world how important the Institute was to keeping the peace on Valoran.

With unequivocal lightning speed, the Institute had made efforts to amend its shattered image. Vessaria Kolminye had been one of many sets of eyes and ears on the ground in Kalamanda, lending her power as both a mage and Summoner to the people. Perhaps it was her unexpected fame from being featured in the _Journal of Justice_ that would lead to her replacing Relivash on the Equity Council. Or maybe like all wars it had been planned from the start, only for things to go awash as all plans inevitably do, and then the Institute had been forced to improvise in order to survive.

"...Does Yasuo know that his old family still wants him dead?"

"Yes, and no. Despite what you may think, we respect the privacy of Champions when it comes to their personal affairs. Perhaps you've noticed that he's dropped his pursuit of a certain _someone_ over the last months? Hmm?"

Zac frowned, and scratched his chin again. He knew exactly who and what Kolminye was referring, but the matter in its entirety had been something that he had wanted nothing to do with. There were enough problems in his world that didn't include two convoluted pasts that happened to intertwine with each other.

"So let me get this straight. You don't want Yasuo to come with me, because you think his old chums will try something. Instead, you want the person who _may_ have been the real culprit to come in his stead?"

"Yes." He could imagine the evil and devious face Kolminye was giving him underneath her magic mask. The face of someone with a master plan, and who had no interest including others in on it.

"Just making sure, do you remember the part where I said this was a terrible idea?"

"We have our reasons. Trust in us, Secret Weapon."

Trust. Again, another word that could be twisted and folded to fit anyone's needs.

Everything around him that kept the Institute of War functioning from day to day revolved around trust. The League trusted that city-state would continue to bring their business to them. City-states trusted that the Institute of War wouldn't begin favoring one over the others. Champions trusted their Summoners not to get them killed on the Fields of Justice. And the world trusted the Institute not to dabble too heavily into things that would bring about the cataclysmic end of the world.

There was no reason for him to doubt her. There never had been. Despite her authority, Kolminye had never hesitated to help him in the past. Maybe it came with the territory of being a member of the I.S.C.P., but sometimes he could sense the maternal concern Kolminye gave off toward people she worked closely with. On eve of his virgin mission to the outside world, was he really going to start questioning her intentions now?

It was awfully difficult, Zac realized, to earnestly judge people by first impressions. Those who seemed pleasant at first in the Institute, usually were good people. Usually. Vessaria Kolminye wasn't particularly pleasant, but the instant he had joined the I.S.C.P. she had become so friendly that it was uncanny. Perhaps, he thought, it was just another characteristic of someone with so much responsibility not on par with anyone else in the world.

"Alright, but I still need someone who knows the lay of the land," Zac protested, trying not to seem like his points had been subdued. "You know that none of the Ionian Champions want anything to do with this deal. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if they're already planning to sabotage it."

"Well, you're half correct," Kolminye said, looking past him and at something unseen by him. "Irelia has already addressed the Council of Elders and tried to stop the deal from going through. But the Elders in the regions where the Order of the Shadows operate have refused to comply with her demands."

This was a surprise to him, if what she was saying was true.

"I don't understand. Does that means that the Council of Elders aren't against this?"

"It's complicated, like everything these days."

"Oh, of course. How silly of me."

"Think of it this way. How do so many different school teaching the killing arts manage to exist in a peace-loving land like Ionia? It is because they hire themselves out to government officials, or volunteer their ranks as a peacekeepers in their regions. Ever since the Kinkou Order was gutted by Zed and his followers, the Order of the Shadow has taken their place in these same roles."

"So for some places, the Order of the Shadow is just the new group replacing the old?"

"Exactly," Kolminye nodded. "I can't say I know for certain, but I've been told that the Order of the Shadow takes a much more proactive approach than the Kinkou did. Despite their ideological differences with the masses, many people credit the Order of the Shadows from keeping the poorer regions of Ionia from breaking down into chaos years after the war."

"I get what you're saying, but I still don't like it. I don't like being a part of other people's politics."

"Then why did you come to the Institute?"

"To try and do the right thing," Zac answered, suddenly aware of how stupid his own answer sounded.

"Everyone has a different idea of what is right and what is wrong. You've chosen our side, and you should stick with us. That means putting your trust in us. Trust that we know what we're doing."

"Isn't that what everyone says?"

"If we didn't have the confidence to say that, than we'd be fools for trying. Don't you understand?"

"I don't know. I'm not good at this. I'm only good at fighting."

"And I'm sure there will be plenty of that where you'll be going," Kolminye remarked dryly, to which he groaned in despair. "I will say it once, and I will say it a hundred times; do not fear. We will be supporting you all of the way."

"I hope so," was all Zac could think to say back. From the ceiling, just as with Riven and the others Champions before them, a blinding light began to shine down on him. At his feet rings of light started to complete themselves, layering each other as they did.

"Honestly, I'm feeling kind of alone right now."

"You are never alone, Secret Weapon," Kolminye said with an unexpectedly sharp rebuking tone. "Now go make a friend, and look out for your other one."

"Wait, what?"

Before he could ask another endless question, Zac was lifted off of his feet and sped away in a brilliant stream of luminescent flash. Whisked away with teleportation magic, like the other Champions before him.

Watching him go, and having gotten the last word in, Kolminye would leave the same way shortly after. But not before taking a few mental notes about the changing world around her, and some interesting things she learnt that day. Being a member of the Council of Equity wasn't just pomp and circumstance, and there was a lot that needed to get done if everything was to go smoothly. With so many powers invested in the Institute of War, there was never any time where she could sit back and simply watch matters develop on their own.

It was a little surprising, though. Zac's unexpectedly timid behavior around his fellow Champions. She hadn't expected as much resistance from him. The entire time she could feel his hesitation, acting like he had some sort of nervous concern about being judged. Was it from the Exile? Or maybe something else?

Well, regardless; one of his greatest strengths was his flexibility, both physically and mentally. Zac would have to learn how to adapt, one way or another. What couldn't kill him would just make him stronger, in more ways than she suspected he knew.

Tumbling about in a magical vortex, Zac opened his eyes only briefly and immediately regretted it. He could only imagine what kind of narcotics or hallucinogenic substances he would have to take to replicate what he had briefly glanced at. There was nothing beautiful about it, as far as he was concerned. It was terrifying to know that he was being teleported between two points using things he had no knowledge about and could not fix if something were to go terribly wrong.

Counting down in his head, he waited patiently before opening his eyes again. The forces pushing on his body were beginning to ease up, a sign that he was close to wherever his destination was going to be. Twisting his body as best he could, he braced himself to land feet first and try not to splatter all over the first surface he hit the moment the teleportation spell ended.

Being dropped out of thin air in a blinding flash of light, Zac hit the stone floors of the Institute and immediately rolled into a ball. Doing his best imitation of Rammus, he forcibly turned himself so that he would roll in a continuous circle, letting the momentum of the magic slowly decay until he came to a complete stop.

Satisfied with his own performance, he changed shape one more time and sprung to his feet. Leaping into the air, he put his arms out to steady himself before planting both feet down like a long jumping athlete with two loud wet slaps as he did.

 _Not bad_ , Zac thought to himself. _I bet I could do better though. Maybe—_

"Ahem."

Still with his arms out holding his acrobatic pose, he turned around to see Riven staring at him.

"...Shit," he muttered, again without thinking. The gears in his head were turning furiously, at the realization that he had been set up. But this time Riven ignored his reaction, and chose to take a step closer to him with her arms crossed firmly.

"I want to talk to you."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. Let me come with you."

"No," Zac said, shooting her down flat. Without a goodbye, he turn right around and started to head back to his home.

Before he could take a second step, he was broadsided from behind. Riven had slammed into him with a flying tackle, knocking them both down and onto the floor. Zac landed with a hard splat, partially cushioning her as she landed on top of him spraying green slime out in every direction.

"Let me come with you," she repeated, after he had partially reformed himself. She showed no signs of remorse for her actions.

"Let me up," he demanded with a cranky and irate tone. "I'm not talking to you on the floor."

Riven crawled off of him slowly, standing up on her own and taking a step back. Zac began to reform the rest of his body, slowly building himself back up while keeping a wary eye on her the entire time. Despite being soaked head to toe in his green goo, she still wore a face of unnerving determination that seemed invincible to everything. After a little he was satisfied that he was completely back together, still wary of being attacked again, he looked her with the same exhausted concern from before.

"Alright. Why do you want to come with me so badly?"

"I have my own reasons."

"Can't you just wait like she told you to?"

"That's not good enough," Riven explained. She continued to follow behind him as he started walking off again. "You and I both know she's made up her mind, whatever that may be. I want to hear it from you that I can come along."

"I haven't made up my mind yet."

"Do you mean it?"

"Yes. I don't know what I want yet."

"...Do you really mean it?

"Yes!" Zac threw his arms up into the air in exasperation. "Is this going somewhere? Or are you just making an effort to be a complete a pain in the ass today!?"

After snapping at her, Riven stopped walking. Noticing this, so did he.

"Is it because you're afraid?"

"...What?" was all Zac could think to say back to her.

"I asked, are you afraid?"

"I'm not—"

"You're afraid, aren't you? Are you afraid of actually meeting the people you've been fighting against?" Riven accused, staring him straight in his eyes with her own. "Everything here is so distant from the world. So far away from real people's troubles, and the troubles you might have caused for them! That's _really_ why you don't want me around isn't it!?"

Even though her words stung, he knew the source of his frustration wasn't her. Looking at his own palms, the undeniable facts of reality were back in full force. He wasn't flesh and blood like her, and he wasn't a machine either. He was a weapon. An artificial lifeform, birthed from test tubes and flasks for the sole purpose of taking orders. He yearned desperately to refute the repulsive ideas of his own self reflections, and assert a higher purpose in his life for himself.

But the swirling undercurrent of self-doubt in his heart undermined his ability to do so. An undercurrent that wasn't coming from any malicious or devious source, other than the straight plain truth being told to him.

"Oh come off it!" Zac shouted back at her. "This isn't about your little crusade to do whatever your heart is telling you! Can't you see how much of a liability you are!? Do you really believe that you'll just fit quietly, and not stand out to everyone involved in this!?"

"That may be true, but I won't just hide from the world. What about you? You've never hesitated to throw a punch on any Field of Justice! I've seen you kill people in more ways than anyone else, but you never volunteer to help with anything outside of the Institute!"

"Because this isn't a damn game! The world outside isn't some place where people who get killed will come back to life! The Institute can always revive us, but they don't give two damns about anyone else out there!"

"That doesn't mean you can just sit back and separate yourself from the world! You should stop hiding like a coward, and make yourself useful!"

"I don't have to do a damn thing other than what the Institute wants me to!"

"And what if everyone in the world thought like that! What if everyone in the world never did anything other than what they were told to do!?"

"Then you would still say I'm a damn fool for doing different!" Zac shouted back at her, their argument having blown up into something very noisy. Around them the different personnel of the Institute were slowing filing away, not wanting to get involving themselves between the two Champions. "You're one to talk! You deserted the Noxian legion the moment you realize how you were just a means for other's ambitions! But now you're here doing the same damn thing for someone else, just like the rest of us!"

"Because what else is there!?"

She hadn't reacted at all like he had expected, with the exception of her sword arm that had been slowly heading toward her broken blade. But her words, as simple as they were, shocked him. He felt his energy draining from him, as if he were ready to melt into a puddle of sludge onto the ground at any moment.

Then he realized; what he was feeling was his own mortality. Not in the same way on or off a Field of Justice, but something completely different. Something that put him at a complete loss for words, despite his temperament before it. He felt like a fish in an ocean. Or like an ant crossing a desert. A wave of revulsion began to build up in his stomach, from his own painful realization about how quickly he had assumed his life was more valued than others. And from what? Just because he was more exotic in nature than his contemporaries?

"Because what else is there," Zac repeated, the words barely audible.

"Because what else is there," Riven repeated too, much quieter this time too.

What could he say to her? What could he say to comfort someone who had managed to escape the horrors of war, only to wind up working for a group promoting peace through perpetual conflicts? What could he, a weapon born in a laboratory as a replacement for everything she was, say to comfort her?

He looked down at her, and she looked up at him. Their eyes only met for a second, before they both couldn't stand what they saw and looked away.


	11. Unstable Matters Chapter 10: I.S.C.P. (Part 3)

**Unstable Matters Chapter 10: I.S.C.P. (Part 3)**

The first sounds Riven heard was that of someone chuckling. It seemed to continue forever, but he could make out the words, " _You mean her?"_ She had no idea what was so funny, but in the process of trying to figure it out she began to regain consciousness. It helped, perhaps, that the voice distinctly belonged to someone she would never consider letting her guard down around. Despite that, it was infinitely more pleasant then the smiley tone of the man who interrupted her. His words were harder to make out, and seemed to be part of a whispered conversation being carried on without regard for her.

" _Why not?"_ said the woman, giggling. _"Don't you think she's beautiful?"_

" _Don't go there."_ The man seemed to be cautioning the woman against something.

Riven tried to open her eyes, and watched as the hextech lights directly above her gradually come into focus. It was the type of light she'd been avoiding in the last years - a fluorescent bulb installed into a ceiling fan above her, the kind that decorated so many offices in the Institute of War.

 _Where am I? Is this one of those apartments?_ she thought, as her mind began to reassert itself. She had never liked the assigned housing the Institute provided to its Champions. There was something about it that just made her uncomfortable. Riven blinked several times. Aware of another presence, she felt very shy, but wanted to know what was going on. She tried moving her body for the first time, and winced at how stiffly her own body ached in turn.

"Are you awake? Can you hear me?" The voice that seemed a room away was far too bright and cheerful for how early it felt.

"Yes," Riven answered, hoarsely, trying her best to be heard. Then she stopped. Why had she replied so readily? She had no way of even knowing where she was, never mind who she was speaking to. Thinking about it, her mind was completely muddied and clouded when she tried to recall anything that had happened a day ago.

"You slept through the entire night," the voice called back, "but you should be all right now. If you're feeling light headed, don't strain yourself too much."

Unable to sit up any longer, Riven slid back down into the bed with a light thump. The mattress underneath her was more comfortable than anything she had slept on in months, having shyed away from the luxuries the Institute wanted to force on her. Everything from the pillow under head to the sheets partially covering her felt wonderful.

Too wonderful to be normal.

 _What happened to me?_ Riven rolled over in the bed, pulling the sheets with her as she did. She rolled back again, in a vain attempt to clear her head and keep herself awake.

"Do you want coffee, or tea maybe?"

"Urmgph," Riven answered back, mustering her willpower and forcing herself to sit upright again. Kicking the covers off of the bed, she forced her legs to move so that she could take her first steps to find out what was going on.

"Riven?" Dressed in a fluffy robe similar to her midnight costume, Ahri peeked her head around the doorframe to the bedroom. "I didn't quite catch that. What did you say?"

Looking down, Riven lay sprawled out on the floor next to the bed as if someone had just killed her in lane. Her unpinned hair lay in a mess, with parts over her face and down her shoulders in a tangled mess. Dressed only in a lacey white chemise, her face had a pained frustration written all over it from her inability to control her own body.

"Ahri," she said, in a way that she wasn't friendly or hostile. Despite that, the look in her eyes showed that she didn't trust her. Trying to stand up again, she let out a pitiful whimper before backing down onto one knee in vain. Not one to stand idle, Ahri walked over silently and gently helped Riven back up to a sitting position on the side of the bed.

"Where am I? How did I get here?" she asked, trying to shake free from the fog still plaguing her mind.

"You're in my home, and you were sleeping in my bed," Ahri answered, winking suggestively as she did. She then pointed to Riven, her eyes looking her over like a hungry fox eying a tasty rabbit. "I'm not used to having female humans in bed with me, but it was actually pretty fun. I'm still surprised how well you fit into my clothes, especially that—"

"Wait, w-what!?" Riven stammered in shock, hastily scooting away from her to get some distance between them. "You—!? T-this—!" she continued to stutter, finally realizing that she wasn't even dressed in her own clothes. Her only protection from the entire world (and a devious fox) was the lacey white chemise, which was only made worse by the fact that it did not belong to her.

"...Really? I was kidding!" Ahri said, covering her own mouth to try and stop herself from laughing at her reaction. "Did you really think I meant it? Oh, that's precious! You should see the look on your face."

Riven's shocked face quickly turned into a spiteful glare, as she closed her mouth slowly with her lips pursing into a miserable scowl. Why she trusted anything that Ahri had said, was a mystery. A stupid mistake that wouldn't be repeated. Remembering the scandalizing garment she was still wearing, she quickly reached over and pulled the nearest sheet off of the bed before wrapping herself in it.

"Where are my clothes," she asked in a deathly calm voice, glaring at Ahri as she did.

"Don't give me that look. Those rags were filthy," Ahri said, crossing her arms and matching the Exile's moody look. "Where have you been living the last month? Under a rock?"

"That's none of your business," Riven bit back, somehow frowning deeper. "I want to know how I got here, and I want my clothes back. Now."

"Tut, tut!" Ahri waggled a finger at his disapprovingly. "Is that how you speak to someone who took care of you? You should say 'please' when you ask for something."

"Fine, please."

"Please, what?"

Riven bit her lower lip, feeling her temper begin to rise at how smugly the nine-tailed fox was acting. Worse, was the fact that she still couldn't remember how she had gotten dropped off into Ahri's care. Everything about the previous night was a blurry haze. Something having to do with the Institute of War. Talking with the most lazy and cowardly weapon she had ever met in her life. Following him. Arguing with him. After that…

Riven sighed in defeat, rubbing her temples as she did.

"...Could you please tell me how I got here, and can I please have my clothes back?"

"No," Ahri said, shooting her down without any remorse. With that said, she then turned back around and left the room with a disgustingly cheerful spring in her step.

Stopping herself from just taking off after her, Riven unwrapped the bed sheet from herself. She then took the time to tie it around herself more carefully, into something that didn't scream that she was practically nude underneath it.

Taking a more careful first step, she slipped herself off of the bed once more and forced herself to stand. Slowly with baby-like steps, she made her way toward a large dresser with a mirror behind it across the room. Rummaging through the drawers, she eventually found something to pin her hair back behind her head. As strange as it sounded, she had never put any thought into something as simple as hair styles, until after she had deserted from Noxus.

Fumbling a bit with the unfamiliar hair clip, her eyes drifted down to the small piles of cosmetics lining the top of the dresser. Lotions, makeup, and perfumes. Now that she was the Exile, there were a lot of things she had to think about that had never been an option before. Personal things. Feminine things. Everything from her diet to her body had been subject to the regiments her city-state's military. She was a legionnaire, groomed from her first day to her last to be one of their finest. But not any longer...

"You can take a shower after breakfast, if you want," Ahri called out again, snapping Riven out of her drifting thoughts.

Breakfast. Even in her dilapidated state of mind, she could smell some wonderful aromas coming from somewhere else in the apartment. There were almost no limits to the services the Institute of War could provide its Champions, and meal catering (even with so many different cultures) was by far the easiest. But like so many other luxuries, it was something she had forcibly shunned herself from indulging in too much.

To be fair, she reasoned, there was no point in being miserable, confused, and hungry all at the same time. Her stomach gave an audible rumble in agreement, sealing the deal right then and there. Getting something to eat would be a good start to what could become another very long day.

"What's on the menu?" Riven asked, walking out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. She continued down the hall, letting her ears and nose lead her to where she was supposed to go.

"Eggs, rice, and a little liver for me," Ahri answered, turning away from something cooking on a stovetop in front of her. Riven resisted making a face, noticing the nearby cutting board that seemed very soaked in blood and some very fresh entrails. Wordlessly, she sat herself down at the table where it had been set up for her. "Since you're not busy today," Ahri continued, watching her guest fiddle with the silverware in front of her. "So would you mind coming with me on a little errand?"

"What kind of errand?" Riven asked, trying not to sound too wary as she did.

"Tag along with me into the city. I have to get a few things ready for our trip tomorrow."

"Our trip!? What trip?" Riven felt a slight chill go down her spine after she asked. Some things had definitely happened between the time she had woken up and passed out from yesterday. Now she was out of the loop, and at the mercy of someone she didn't really trust to bring her up to speed.

"What? You don't remember?"

"No," Riven growled in frustration. "I told you, I don't even know how I got here. And every time I ask, you avoid telling me!"

Ahri reached out and took two plates out from a nearby cabinet, before setting them on the countertop gently. It was amusing how poorly her guest responded to simple teasing. As if shouting like a soldier would make the world bend to her demands. Was she afraid? Nervous about being in debt to someone? She had figured that being a military fugitive would have grown her a thicker skin to their harsh world, but maybe there was still something childish behind her independent warrior act. Something that would provide her with easy entertainment for a very long time.

She would have to thank Zac for breakfast and the show later…

"You're not a soldier anymore, battle bunny." Ahri waved the chopsticks in her hands, jabbing them in the air at her. "Shouting won't get you anywhere with me. Try chocolates and flowers, first."

Riven bit her lower lip, again, and Ahri could just picture steam coming out from both of her ears. There was something amusing about all of the soldier-types that were Champions in the League. Very few of them had any sense of humor, or manners for that matter, and the few that did would never even give her the time of day. So many people, running in circles for so many different causes, and each one believing themselves right over others. All part of a never ending cycle that seemed blissfully unaware of its own existence.

"Now, if you're going to be civil with me," Ahri offered, deciding to teasing on hold for a little. "I'll answer your questions over breakfast, and afterward, I might be nice enough to give you something to wear other than my bed's sheets. How does that sound?"

Riven muttered something under her breath (which Ahri assumed was a concession of defeat), and shifted about uncomfortably in her makeshift clothes. It was probably the best answer she was going to get, considering the circumstance.

Pride. Maybe she had underestimated how much pride Riven still had, considering that she lived as if she were under some religious vow of poverty. Was she dealing with an exile, or a reclusive hermit?

Sorting things out over both plates, Ahri divided what she had cooked between them both making sure to give a little more to Riven. Admiring her handiwork for a second, she took both plates and placed them onto their spots on the table.

"Moke ga," Ahri said, noting how Riven was looking over her meal carefully as if it were poisoned. Reaching out, she pushed the salt and pepper shakers on the table over toward her. "They're not going to kill you, okay? I bet you'll want to chase after Zac, but that will have to wait for a little."

"Wait, was Zac here?" Riven asked incredulously, momentarily forgetting about the free meal in front of her. Had the voice from before belonged to him?

"Was," Ahri said, taking her time between bites of egg. She then picked up a piece of liver she had sliced up, before popping it into her mouth casually. Riven wrinkled her nose at the sight, noticing that the cut of meat seemed to be barely cooked. "He left after you woke up. He was saying something about wanting to get some fresh air. You know his type, he can't do anything without worrying about it first. We can catch up with him later, if you'd like."

"Yeah, I would like that." Riven stabbed at the fried eggs on her plate with a little more force than needed. Taking her first bite, she decided right then and there that the eggs tasted too good to be a trap. "Any idea where he went?"

Thinking for a bit, and chewing her food some more, Ahri nodded.

"I think I know where he's going, but you aren't going to like it."

"Try me," Riven dared, with a mouthful of food.

Ahri arched an eyebrow her way, a coy smile tugging at her pursed lips. Riven swallowed what was left in her mouth. It may have been from the little dribble of meat juice on her lips, but despite everything that had happened so far, this was the first time she felt like she was being stared at by a hungry predator. One who had been waiting patiently for the right moment to strike. On the battlefield, she had learnt the hard way that even one second of carelessness could be the difference between life and death. Talking to Ahri, it seemed, was no different.

"How tempting. Since you owe me, as soon as breakfast is over, let's have some real fun."

* * *

The Twin Dragon Sanctum was an official-sounding name, appropriate for how stepping into the Ionian section of the Institute was like entering a different world. Zac could only imagine how long it must have taken to completely mask the industrial and institutional architecture of the Institute of War with something much more organic, but they had done it. Stone gardens and tall grass fields, fish ponds and bending rivers, bamboo and reed forests as tall as three storey buildings. Everything had been completely redesigned with an Ionian flare, all of which was unique to the continent of Valoran.

Getting into the Ionian section hadn't been too hard. All of the posted guards and League officials had just let him through, almost as if they had been expecting him. This, in his line of work, was a telltale sign that they had been.

Still, even if he was walking into someone else's plans, it could be worse.

Zac almost laughed at the thought. The idea of being used by Ionia didn't really sound as...scary, as it did with other city-states. It made sense why Ionia's self-imposed isolation had originated from ideological differences from the rest of Runeterra. Maybe it was just a naive hope, but it was nice to think that there was some place in the world filled with humans who weren't only out for themselves. Or maybe the island's inhabitants were just going for some sort of long con, pretending to be peaceful when they were really preparing to build some sort of doomsday device that would be used to conquer the world.

"Secret Weapon, we are honored by your presence. What have you come for today?"

Two Summoners wearing their familiar deep purple robes bowed to him, their hands linked together and concealed underneath the overflowing sleeves of their outfits. There was neither suspicion nor hostility in their voices, but they had both purposefully stepped in front of him before he had gotten past the entrance to the inner gardens. The Institute of War forbade Summoners from altering the exterior of their robes, and giving telltale signals to their city-state loyalties. Judging by their behavior, perhaps they were acting as unofficial guards to the Ionian interior.

Zac raised a hand, waving off the over the top respect he got from Summoners all of the time. "I'm just here to deliver something," he said, gesturing to the brown envelope in his hand. "I was invited by Karma too, by the way."

"Ah, have you come for her mantra sessions?" the other Summoner asked. They both stepped aside together, giving him space to pass by between them. "She only started a few minutes ago. I'm sure she understands that you were busy."

"Yes, actually, thank you. I hope she won't mind that I'm late," Zac lied, this time returning the bowing gesture from both Summoners before he walked past them and into the interior gardens.

The morning sun hadn't yet reached its apex in the sky, and so he could still feel the cool chill of the early morning on the soft grass underneath his feet. There was a still, almost pristine sense to the land around him. The gardens seemed to be waking up too, preparing for what was to come later in the day.

"Sae eleisa tera vi phyla. Discover the meaning of tranquility. Feel the world around us, which is blooming into another day."

The closer he got to the inner sanctum of the garden, he could make out the large statue of two twin dragons that represented the land of Ionia. At its base, Karma, the Duchess of Ionia, shifted into a different meditative stance. At her side was Irelia, Captain of the Ionian Guard, who was doing her best to mimic the same stance along with several other people in regular clothes in front of them. At their sides on the ground were the purple robes all veteran Summoners owned, identically folded separate into a neat and respectful shape.

"Lath rian oune vi saera. Weave the threads of magic," Karma said, reciting one of the ancient Ionian mantras she always used on and off the rift. "We stand at one of many tips of our world. Feel the magic in the air around you."

Zac tried not to smirk at Irelia struggling to match the awkward stance in her full armor, while Karma was able to switch poses effortlessly in her dress. The four blades on her back were probably much heavier than the twin dragons on Karma's, although maybe that wasn't true, considering how fluidly Irelia could fight with them on the fields of justice. Then again, he had never asked what the two dragons on Karma's back weighed either.

Weighing his options, Zac stopped himself before he got too close where he would have to explain himself. Deviating off of the main pathway, his trudging steps lead him to a sand pit out of the way from the rest of the gardens. Polished granite squares rose out like monoliths from the golden sands, acting as platforms for anyone to use. In fact, three out of the six already had occupants on them.

Not saying a word, Zac raised his leg to step up onto a square before sitting down with a splat.

"I sense we have an unexpected guest." Lee Sin turned to him, relaxing and relieving himself from the stance he had been holding. Somehow the Blind Monk had been balancing the entire weight of his body on one leg, crossing the other over in the same way as if he were sitting cross legged. Lowering himself down to the ground slowly, he crossed his legs and sat down in the same position as Zac next to him.

"Allow me to welcome you to our little part of the Institute of War. May I ask what you have come for today?"

"Perspective," Zac decided, after thinking a bit.

Envelop still in hand, he threw it in the air at Lee Sin who caught it with no effort. Feeling it over with both of his hands for a second, he quietly slipped it into the front pocket of his training poom dobok. Still leading her group with their stances, Zac noted how Karma had glanced over at them both before going to back to her lecture.

"Karma had offered for me to come here in the past, but I didn't think much of it. But now I have some thoughts on my mind, and this seemed like a good place to get a second opinion."

"My thoughts? Hmm, well, I can certainly try," Lee Sin nodded. He then gestured to Orianna and Blitzcrank who were still sitting together, as still as stones as if they had been both turned off. The only signs that either were still operational was the decorative key handle slowly turning in Orianna's back, and the occasional puffs of steam rising out of the pipes of Blitzcrank's smokestacks. "Perhaps our other guests would be willing to share their thoughts as well?"

"We too are here to observe," Orianna explained, speaking (Zac assumed) for Blitzcrank and herself. "Many humans take time to reflect on their thoughts in the belief that it will better themselves. Though our bodies and minds are made from metal…"

"WE SEEK UNDERSTANDING," Blitzcrank blared, remaining unmoving like a large yellow rock. "A GOOD ROBOT DOES NOT IDLE. THIS IS AN EXPERIMENT. OBJECTIVE: FIND MORE ABOUT THE CONCEPTS OF HUMANITY."

Blitzcrank's head slowly turned to look at him, as did Orianna in synch.

"WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS, NON-HUMAN LIFEFORM?"

Both of them stared at him intensely, with their cold steel faces incapable of showing that they were really thinking. Despite that, he couldn't help but feel that there was an almost child-like curiosity behind the question being asked. There wasn't anything malicious behind Blitz's question, as far as he could tell. In fact, both the Steam Golem and Lady of Clockwork shared more in common with him than he had first realized. Whimsical creations of the most dominant species of their world, which had been later deemed independent, intelligent, and deserving of respect after some unique circumstances.

"I'm not sure how to say it."

"QUERY: WHAT ARE YOU ARE UNSURE OF?"

Zac resisted the urge to give a sarcastic answer, simply because he didn't know whether or not Orianna or Blitzcrank would understand it.

"I've been chosen to take part in something very...dangerous," he continued. Hesitating, he began to think more about it. How much should he divulge? He suspected that Lee Sin already knew everything, as did Karma and Irelia who were still attending their own business. If they were going to be working against him, could he convince them to help him? Would he be able to somehow make them accept the Institute's decision, and not resort to their own plans which were surely already being implemented long before the _Garuda_ reached Ionian waters?

"It's something that could get a lot of people killed. I'm afraid that I won't be strong enough or smart enough to stop people from losing their lives in needless bloodshed."

"Such thoughts are perfectly normal, for any rational individual," Lee Sin commented. "I sense this is not just about protecting the innocent from the wicked. You hesitate because you want to remain true to your responsibilities, and the people who have placed their faith in you. Would you say that you have the courage to face their expectations?"

"I don't know about that," Zac said, more sure about that than anything else at that moment. "I don't know if I have the courage or resolve, but I know that a lot of powerful people are choosing to believe in me. I don't know if I can match those expectations."

"I'm surprised to hear that. I did not think a Champion as strong as you would willingly confess to such things."

"Yeah, well, we all have our moments of weakness," Zac said neutrally. Something in the back of his head reminded him of the Blind Monk's own past as a student of the Institute of War. One of the first, in fact, of a generation that had grown up smothered by the image the Institute promoted across the entire world. So maybe, like so many other Champions, there was more to his relations with the Institute than had been made public.

"Weakness? Hmph! The matters you speak of are matters of the mind and heart. You should not rely on the words of others when it comes to such things. A wise man looks at the world, and not what is just in front of him. Beware of those who lecture with unfounded confidence in their voices."

"Does that include you?" Zac felt compelled to ask, after thinking on the blind monk's words.

"Yes," Lee Sin answered without any hesitation. So much so that it actually impressed him. "My words are only my own. It is my hope that you will find the good in yourself to do what is right."

Honest words, spoken by something with a clear conscious about why he had chosen the words he had. It was the advice Zac had been looking for, but there was something about it that made him uneasy. Something he couldn't put in to words to describe.

The man next to him was one of the most famous men in the entire world. His own disability had been self-inflicted, as a form of protest against one of the most serious political strife in Valoran's history. Word of his own unique form of protest had gathered so much notoriety, that it had actually influenced the Institute of War into giving Ionia a second chance to fight against Noxus on the Fields of Justice. Not content with Ionia's victory, the moment he had recovered he immediately petitioned the Institute of War to be inducted as a Champion representing his home city-state. The Blind Monk. What was a crippling disability in the eyes of many was nothing but another character trait for him. To this very day, Lee Sin continued to be an extremely popular pick for every tier of Summoners throughout the League's ladder system. As well as a frequent ban, despite there being over one hundred other choices beside him.

He was sitting and conversing with a man who was a saint. A pariah. A god amongst men. Someone who had devoted his entire life toward aiding others, supporting those in need, and investing in humanity's potential for good in the miserable world they lived in.

But, despite knowing this, the feeling remained.

An animosity. A foreign distrust. A cold sensation, the seemed rooted in the core of his being.

Maybe, Zac wondered, what he was feeling was the origin of all conflicts in the world.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm fighting against the ocean. Every wave that gets pushed back, good or bad, will just come back eventually until it's too strong for anyone to do anything about."

"You are talking about the Institute of War, and the League of Legends, yes? You know that it exists for a 'greater good,' but you are distrusting of such idealistic claims."

Still sitting next to Blitzcrank, who remained silent, Orianna then spoke up.

"Human curiosity is limitless. Limitless, and dangerous. Imbued by hubris, humans seek knowledge they cannot use, and power they cannot control. Human greed has given birth to monsters like Nocturne and Fiddlesticks, and destroyed the lives of countless other intelligent life forms."

Orianna stopped speaking, taking a moment to reach around her own back and wind the large kay handle sticking out of her. Once. Twice. Three times in total, before looking over to Blitzcrank next to her. Small wisps of steam continued to gently rise out of the steam golem's twin smokestacks, as he remained silent and unmoving. As time continued to pass by, his mismatched eyes lit up with a dull glow.

"HUMANITY MUST LEARN CONTROL, IN ORDER TO REGAIN ITS DIGNITY."

"I agree. Humans are different from animals," Lee Sin said, standing up to retake the meditative stance he had held earlier as he spoke. "We are supposed to respect the lives of others, and yet, we are responsible for so much bloodshed. Directly and indirectly. Not only aggressors who pride themselves in their strength, but those who stand idle when forced to face the future."

Again, the blind monk's words stung ever so slightly. It wasn't that Zac believed his words were directed at him, as relevant as they might have been, but it was that he agreed with him that pained him the most.

"For all we may experience, humans like me live tragically short lives. Since one's own experiences are their own, it is hard to pass lessons on in ways that they can understand without having to bear similar burdens. It is my belief that the Institute of War was created for that purpose," Lee Sin continued, with no commentary toward Blitzcrank and Orianna's own contributions to their discussion. "The Institute is responsible for uniting humanity under its own common history. In the end, it may be impossible to tame the natures of so many different peoples. A single organization cannot embody the will of all humanity; but perhaps, over time, humanity will learn to curb its own selfishness by living in closer company with each other."

"Yeah. Sometimes I'm surprised that mankind has gotten as far as it has," Zac said, thinking back to Morgana's words a day ago.

If the things the fallen angel had said were all true, then short life spans and repeated mistakes were not as deeply linked as Lee Sin was implying. It made humanity's survival in the present more impressive, but hope for any positive change in the future seemed very grim.

Or maybe not. There was no reason to believe that angels and humans were linked in development, just because one could understand the other. There was no proof that one was inherently superior to the other too. Both were capable of love, hate, and misunderstandings. Flaws that living short lives or immortal ones would not help fix.

Just as Blitzcrank and Orianna were the first generation of their own kind, so too maybe all of the people around him were on the threshold of a new potential. Something birthed from the countless generations before, that had been forced to endure all manner of threats and terrors their entire lives. A new generation of humans, who could appreciate the value of the world they were born into? Appreciate the safety and security that the Institute of War provided. Could it be possible? Was hoping for something like that foolish?

Maybe it was all just a delusion he was entertaining to keep his mind off of his own troubles...

"You've come at last. I sensed you were looking for something. Have you found what you were seeking?"

Zac jumped a little at the interruption, a single wiggly vibration running all of the way up from his legs to his head. Standing in front of him was Karma herself, who had somehow managed to sneak away from her students without him noticing. Behind her he could see Irelia leading the group now, altering between the different forms taken in her unique hiten style of sword fighting.

"No," Zac mumbled, finding the uneasiness from before returning. The question she had asked him was simple and without hidden intent, but just the thought of it made him feel sick. "But… I'm trying. I think. I guess. I don't know," he stumbled, groaning as he did at his own clumsiness.

"SLOW ANSWER TO SIMPLE QUESTION. TAXED PROCESSORS DETECTED. SUGGESTION: RESTART TO CLEAR MEMORY?"

Zac shot Blitzcrank a glaring look for the stupid, but irritatingly accurate observation. Blitzcrank and Orianna said nothing, the pair finding nothing wrong with the steam golem's assessment. Next to him Lee Sin cracked a small smile, and Karma laughed gently at the suggestion.

"If only it were that simple. We have much to envy of machines," Karma said, turning back to look at Zac with the warm and gentle concern that was so off putting to him. "How about you two? Has your time here been enlightening?"

"This unit believes so. But, we will review the data of our observations later...together," Orianna said, looking to her compatriot who nodded as well.

"CORRECT. BASE ALGORITHMS OF HUMANITY ARE COMPLEX. IT WILL TAKE TIME TO DECODE…TOGETHER."

 _Oh boy. Understatement of the year_ , Zac thought to himself. Karma and Lee Sin both nodded in understanding, before turning back to him. For a brief second, he noticed Karma glance over at Lee Sin, as if to silently ask for him approval over something. If some message had been sent back, it was impossible to tell with the Blind Monk being who he was.

"Forgive me if this is too forward," Karma began suddenly, after the moment had passed. "Perhaps you know what I am going to say, but… I want to speak with you about this weapons deal that you've become a part of."

 _Oh boy, here it comes,_ Zac thought to himself again. Karma was still regarding him with a gentle concern that betrayed nothing of what she was really thinking. Maybe that was what made him so uncomfortable around her more than anything else. Being the duchess of Ionia meant more responsibilities and priorities than her quiet but willful demeanor ever let on. Calling her a snake seemed highly inappropriate, but at the same time, maybe it was just because he knew nothing about how far she would go as a leader for her people.

"Please excuse me for the interruption everyone. Secret Weapon?"

Without warning, a Summoner in his purple robes stepped out from the path and into the sand to join them. Zac looked at the Summoner, feeling a bead of sweat drip down his back as he recognized him as one of the two who had been posted to guard the entrance to the Twin Dragon Sanctum.

"Champion Ahri is waiting for you at the entrance with Champion Riven. She wants to speak with you about something."

Zac almost laughed at the first thought that sprung into his head at the news. It seem that today, salvation had come in the form of a charming soul eating monster, in company with a moody ex-soldier. Ahri may have had nine beautifully white tails, but she was the only thing he needed to slip away back into the Institute's protective halls.

"I guess I have to go then. I don't want to keep her waiting," Zac said to excuse himself. "I'm sorry we couldn't talk more, but I'm on borrowed time right now."

Repeating the same bowing gesture he had given the two Summoners before to both Karma and Lee Sin, he got up and hastily headed straight for the entrance where he could see Ahri was waiting for him. As he walked away, he knew that Karma was watching him go with a much steelier gaze than anything he had gotten before.

"Heya," was the first thing Ahri said, as she leaned against the entranceway frame lazily. "Did you miss me?"

"More than you'd believe," Zac said back, getting a deep smile out of her in return. "You're a lifesaver, you know that?"

"I can't say I get called that too much," she shrugged, still smiling as she did. "Was it really that bad?"

"More than you would believe," he said, realizing that what he had just said probably wasn't true. "There's something about her I can't put into words. Karma, I mean. It's just very off putting to me."

"You said it before, remember?" Ahri poked his arm with a finger, her sharpened nail digging into his goo. She watched a small bit of stringy slime stretch out when she pulled finger out of him. With a childish fascination and mischievous glimmer in her eyes, she licked her finger to taste it when he wasn't looking. "You told me you weren't a fan of people who were overly confident in themselves. Karma is just like that, you know? She's been through a lot in her life. It doesn't mean that she's secretly evil, or something."

"Yeah, I guess so," Zac conceded, more satisfied that they had walked far enough away from the Twin Dragon Sanctuary to constitute an escape. "I just don't think she understands people like me very well."

"Oh? And what kind of person are you?"

"I just want to live forever, or die trying."


	12. Unstable Matters Chapter 11: I.S.C.P. (Part 4)

**Unstable Matters Chapter 11: I.S.C.P. (Part 4)**

"Why did they pick you?" Ahri asked Zac, for the tenth time since they had met up and escaped from the tranquil Twin Dragon Sanctum.

Not skipping a beat, Ahri had started barraging him with questions the moment they had left the Ionian Quarter of the Institute of War. Asking everything from what his plans were for the rest of the afternoon, what was his plan for their mission together, and whether he had eaten breakfast yet. In some respects it was an endearing display of concern he imagined Ahri rarely spared for anyone, yet, he couldn't help but wonder if half of the questions being asked weren't for her own satisfaction.

Following a few steps behind them both, Riven remained silent with a face that seemed distanced for everything else in the world. Zac's thoughts went back to the night before, still unable to really think of anything that could be said to pick up from where they had left off. Not that he wanted to bring it up anyway. Maybe it was the cool summer weather that had the Exile deep in her own thoughts, and getting involved with the key figures of Noxus was bringing up some musty memories of her past life too. Or maybe it was the fact that Ahri had worked some sort of magic and gotten her dressed in an outfit similar to her dynasty costume, hair pins and all.

More likely the latter, he mused to himself. But before he could think about the subject further, he felt Ahri tug on his arm again.

"Tell me at least," Ahri whispered, in a voice that wasn't nearly quiet enough for Riven not to hear. "Your secret is safe with me."

"There is no secret," Zac responded in his own defense, feeling that Riven's stare was intense enough to burn a hole in the back of his head. "There's nothing underhanded, no sneaky reasons. As far as I know, they're just exercising their judgment. I haven't been promised anything, and I'm not being paid off by them. Why do you keep asking?"

"Don't you get it? That's what the problem is."

Zac and Ahri both looked back over their shoulders at Riven, who had just spoken her first words since they had met up.

"Aren't you concerned at all? Jericho Swain is a man who always picks and chooses his battles. If he chose you, than he has something in mind."

"I know that much, at least. But the way we met was what got me thinking," Zac said back, trying at least to sound a little assuring. The last thing he needed was Riven's doubt hovering over them all when they would soon have masks to wear and roles to play out. "That's why I'm heading over there today. I need to keep looking."

"Looking for what?"

"Looking for what Swain thinks about his closest subordinates."

Riven crossed her arms. "Do you really think they'll reveal themselves to outsiders like us so easily?" she asked, doubtfully frowning as she did.

"I think you'll be surprised at their complacency here at the Institute."

"I'm not sure if you're joking or not."

"Neither am I. So let's just wait," he advised, continuing to walk with a confident stride in his step. "But if it makes you feel any better, I've got a few strings I can pull between them. If we can get them paranoid enough to fight each other, I think we'll be safe."

Ahri watched Riven let out a huff in resignation, before smiling devilishly to herself. Problems with a change in leadership? It would not be the first time.

Somewhere in their world there was waste. Destruction. Garbage. Pesticides. Toxic waste, magic radiation, and free enterprise to take advantage of it all. There were abominations roaming the land, dishing out wanton destruction without rhyme or reason. There was mediocrity in high governments, and self-interest too. There was trouble on the seas. There was trouble on the land. These were not mere delusions, and not something made up by some Institute of War clerk tasked with reinforcing the importance of the League of Legends in settling conflict in their world. The rune wars were over, and there was still no peace on their world. Nothing made sense and neither did everything else. Humans ran about doing things without knowing why and then tried to find out.

That's why she had decided, in secret, to stick with him. For now, at least.

There was something incredibly...odd, about the Secret Weapon known as Zac.

To anyone else who didn't know him as intimately as she had gotten to, Zac was as incredibly unique to Runeterra as his personality was incredibly boring. Aside from the adorable tough-guy attitude he always acted out on the Fields of Justice, outside of them there was no substance to him. No talents, no hobbies, and no particular interests to get a good reading on what he was thinking. He always spoke plainly; respective and diminutive, no matter whom he was talking to. Everyone got the same amount of respect, rationed out in a careful and clerical manner that made it clear that he could only stomach so much face to face interaction in one day. He was a show piece for the League's collection of Champions. An oddity to be gawked at by the faceless masses, constantly fighting against all manner of mages, heroes, assassins, monsters, and more.

But… Ever since she had started attaching herself to him, he had shown hints of a deeper and more cynical outlook on things. Things she did not think about. Which, of course, were things that she did not think he would think about.

That was something that caught her interest. Years of seducing and using people for her own ends had transformed her into a very good judge of character. The first few words out of a person's mouth were usually enough for her to get draw a picture of their character. Their depth and personality. Their potential value to her.

People who played the mysterious intellectual were a dime a dozen, just like those who pretended to be tough when they really weren't. Masks covering more masks. By all accounts there wasn't anything new or amazing about Zac, minus the fact that he was a giant green artificial life form.

That was all before a very peculiar thing had happened. Many peculiar things.

It had started with a case of mistaken identity. Really, aiming blindly had never been her strong suit. When she had heard him returning, an hour later in the dead of night, maybe she had let the anticipation of a little revenge dull her focus. Or maybe Zac had done the clever thing, and let Riven enter his apartment ahead of him suspecting a surprise attack. Regardless, the Charm spell cast into her essence orb had hit its mark. Albeit, the wrong mark standing in the doorway where her original target should have been.

Whisking away Riven's delirious body to her own home (with Zac in tow), she had offered him her roof to sleep under for the night in return for his silence over what had happened. She also promised to not use her powers on him to pry secrets in the future, and he promised that he would not say anything to anyone about what had happened.

But then the unexpected had happened.

For the first time in weeks she had slept soundlessly through the entire night. Even though she was sharing a bed with someone who was particularly clingy when they slept, not once was she plagued by the any of the lucid dreams and nightmares that had been haunting her. The strange and deathly realistic visions she had been having over the last weeks, that had slowly been wearing her soul down. They were like clairvoyant glimpses into another world, with how real they seemed, and they always left her in a cold sweat afterward.

There were no answers to them, and there were no signs of their cause. She had spent a week in the Institute of War's finest medical facilities, only for them to tell her that there was nothing wrong with her. She had insisted that they keep looking, but they were just as insistent that she was in perfect health. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her, except her lack of respect for professional esteem when she flirted with every male doctor and male orderly working there.

The Institute did not look kindly upon her salacious frivolity. Having the nerve to even complain that she should feel ashamed for pretended to be sick when she wasn't. Prattling on in moral tirades, even going as far to point out how there were people elsewhere in the world less fortunate than herself. As if her being ejected from their care would change that.

There was no proof that he had helped her in any way with her nightmares. But in her experiences, there were no coincidences in the Institute of War. Things happened for reasons no one understood, and there was no time for indecision or hesitation. She had seen things pass people by so fast, with such blinding pace that it numbed the senses from doing anything about it. If he was the answer to a problem she couldn't solve, then she would have to do took to make sure he stayed that way.

"Halt! State your name and business!"

Zac, Ahri, and Riven stopped themselves as a pair of Summoners approached them well beyond the first set of polished iron gates that lead deeper into the Noxian Quarter. The trio stopped too, and both looked and waited expectantly to see how Zac would respond in turn.

The Noxian Quarter of the Institute of War was, to put it simply, an entire military facility unto itself. Maybe it was to be expected, Ahri mused, since the supreme commander of the Noxian military resided there to both compete in the League of Legends and do...things...away from home.

The different quarters for each city-state had their unique charms pulled from each respective culture, but the Noxian Quarter was practically a military base inside of the Institute's own fortress. Unlike the Twin Dragon Sanctum which had only covered over the existing space with an Ionian flare, the so-called _Ivory Barracks_ was always under construction. It was no surprise that with every addition or change to it, Demacia made one to their own part of the Institute. This cycle had started from the first week of the Institute's founding, and as a result, the two opposite sides of the Institute always seemed to have major and minor construction going on during all hours of the day and night. Just another something that added to the character of the Institute of War in general.

So too, the Summoners that worked in the Noxian Quarter were very different from the ones that staffed the Ionian section of the Institute of War. Ignoring the swords on their backs, sheathed but not with no effort made to conceal their existence, it was clear that they had been trained as soldiers first and mages second. An interesting but not unexpected take on things, Ahri mused.

"Independent Champion Zac, here to follow up on my recruitment for a job," Zac responded with some degree of rehearsed authority. "I'm here to see Jericho Swain."

"Did you schedule a meeting with the Grand General?"

"No, but he should be expecting me."

Keeping on eye on them from where he stood, the Summoner that had stopped them looked back to his partner and nodded. The gesture was returned, and the other Summoner entered the gates of the Noxian Quarter to relay the message.

"He'll return in a little. Until then, we ask that you wait here."

"Understood," Zac answered neutrally, taking a step back and folding his arms around his back carefully. Suddenly, he felt a slight tug on his antenna that ran back down his head as Riven whispered sharply into his ear.

"Do you really have a plan?" Riven asked, with a hint of aggravated embitterment that didn't have to do with how Ahri had dressed her.

"Yes, trust me on this," he whispered back, quietly enough so as to not seem too suspicious to the armed guard only a few steps in front of them.

"Are you telling me the truth?"

"To the best of my ability."

"You're not hiding anything?"

"Not as far as I can tell."

"...Would you even tell me if you were?"

"I would tell you if I could. It would depend."

"On what?"

"If I could tell you the truth or not," Zac said, noting how the other Summoner stationed at the gate was already returning. He was not coming alone.

"Would you tell us the truth?" Ahri cut in, giving him an unnecessarily pouty face as she did.

"You're both assuming I know what it is."

"Would you lie to us?"

"I would have to know the truth first."

"So you're being honest with us?" Ahri beamed happily. Riven shot her a dirty look, probably for indulging Zac and stealing her interrogation away from her.

"That would probably be a good idea right now," Zac confessed, recognizing the large walking hulk of spiked steel armor lumbering at them. He could hear him coming from a mile away, with his steel boots clanking against the stone floor along with the rest of his armor that fit together ergonomically despite its intimidating bulk.

Darius, the Hand of Noxus, pushed aside the heavy iron gates effortlessly, continuing his loud march toward them. The blood red cape that contrasted his armor trailed behind him, blowing on its own somehow and making him seem even more intimidating. The other Summoner at the gate took a step back and snapped off a salute, and Darius returned it quickly before waving him off and back to his post.

"You took your time, didn't you?" Darius muttered, scowling in a reproachful way that reminded Zac a little too much of the battle bunny behind him. "Was your tardiness from your cowardice to come here?"

"That's none of your business. I came in the end, like he predicted," Zac answered, crossing his arms in front of himself and trying to match Darius' own frown with his own. "Are you here to escort me to him?"

"You're rather talkative knowing that you won't be killed." He watched Darius glance and Ahri and Riven briefly, moving his lips as if he had just gotten a disgusting taste in his mouth. "I've been ordered to escort you to the Grand General's office. Come with me."

"Hold it, I'm coming with him," Riven demanded suddenly. Zac felt himself shooting her a glare for her unneeded interference. He watched Darius' scowl only deepen.

"You?" Darius looked as if he getting sick at the sight of her. "You have no place here, deserter. The only place cowards like you deserve to be is on an executioner's chopping block."

"Cowardice!?" Riven hissed the word as she said it. The shock and dismay at the accusation was masked by her complete contempt and disgust for the word. Zac knew the situation was going to slip out of his control, unless he did something soon to stop the two from coming to blows.

"You would dare use that word with me!? I did not abandon those men! My men died because of our military's reliance on Zaunite lunatics and their toys!"

"The excuses of a beaten dog. You take what Noxus gave you, and use your talents like a _whore_ to fight for the highest bidder," Darius said back, his voice cold and riddled with disgust that came from the core of his being. "Fighting here as an independent Champion! If you had any love for Noxus left in your heart, you would kill yourself to help us erase the shame of your failures."

"Enough!" Zac interrupted, before Riven could escalate things further. He could only imagine Darius' head being split open like an egg if Riven could not think of a proper answer that satisfied her as well. Someday he wouldn't mind seeing it, but this was not the time.

"I don't give a damn about either of your histories, or what you think about each other. Darius, you _will_ take me to Swain. Now!"

At first he wasn't sure whether or not giving a direct command to Darius would backfire and make the Noxian standoff worse. Worse, in that he would be on the receiving end of a steel fist or blade of a large war axe. Mercifully, whatever training his former superiors had instilled into the Hand of Noxus during his earlier years kicked into gear, breaking the mood of Darius and reminding him of his discipline and orders.

"Hmph," Darius grunted, turning his back to them and marching back into the Noxian Quarter on his own.

"Riven… Just trust me. Trust me on this one thing." Zac did not turn to face her when he spoke. He did not bother to look at how mad she was, either at him or Darius. He knew that Ahri would take care of her, help her calm down, without him having to ask.

"I'll be back in a little."

Not bothering to wait for an answer, Zac left to trail behind Darius to go deeper into the Noxian Quarter of the Institute of War.

It was an odd time to think about it, but it was almost fascinating how the man in front of him was capable of moving freely in steel armor that could measure to be several inches thick in certain places. All over his entire body, no less. On the Fields of Justice, there were many different Champions who fought and died from magic powers granted to them that they did not possess off of it. Zac had to wonder whether or not Darius was actually more threatening off of the Fields than he was on it.

Then again, the fact that he was wearing at least two hundred pounds of steel armor, but no helmet, would come to bite him harder in the real world too.

Together they passed through decorative gardens, monumental statues, and the like. Scenery that seemed less hardened than what he would have expected from some place for high ranking Noxian military members. Finally, after passing through several checkpoints, Darius stopped in front of a large set of double doors. The two Noxian soldiers posted gave a salute, before swiftly opening the door to them.

A large space in the form of a staff room, far bigger than he had imagined possible appeared, causing Zac to gape silently. The ceiling inside could measure two levels tall, and were being held up by four separate round pillars spiral shaped carvings in them. There was an oil painting hanging above a wall mounted fireplace, and the curtains draped on both left and right windows at the opposite end of the room gave a solemn feeling that was hard to tell if they were antiques. Even the ceiling lights (and their covers) had similar carvings that showed the delicate skill of the craftsman. All the furniture showed some form of balance, and yet, a luxury that one might mistake to be nobility in a palace.

Despite looking antique, it had no resemblance to any designs he had seen in his life. Zac was overwhelmed by this scene that could only be described as Noxian as he remained stunned. Certain parts of the Institute had an antique feel, but it was different. If the Institute of War could be described as being based on luxury, this would give goose bumps while looking like it was meant to intimidate others. An expression of culture and class strictly unique to the upper crust of Noxus. It did not make Zac feel fear or uneasy, just weird as he stared at the anomaly sitting right in front of him.

"I was told that this room is a replica of the first command center put together by the high command. Sometimes you have to accept other people's kind intentions, regardless of your own preferences."

From the distance it was hard to tell who exactly was behind the desk stationed all the way across the room. Was it the armored robes, or the roughly aged man wrapped in them speaking? Swain continued as he stared at the silent Zac, who continued to walk toward his desk with Darius now at his side behind him.

"Although it doesn't actually fit my tastes, I think adaptation is one of the required qualities of a leader."

Before Zac could respond, he could feel Swain's stare go past him and right at Darius'. "I know these last weeks have been tough on you, my old friend. You do not have to accompany us here."

On hearing this, Darius answered, "Yes, Grand General." His heavy voice echoed through the room. Without another word spoken, and without even a parting glance, Darius walked out of the room leaving Zac and Swain alone.

Jericho Swain. The Grand General of Noxus, and leader of the Noxian High Command. Although he had orchestrated the meeting, it felt surreal having a private audience with one of the most respected and feared men on the entire Valoran continent. How suddenly things could change, when only hours ago someone he had been verbally abused and tasted like he was some sort of dessert gelatin. Maybe it was the nature of the Institute of War itself that caused such things to happen. Some sort of power to make the big world a little bit smaller.

"What is it? Please take a seat."

The unexpectedly earnest voice came from behind the mask, causing Zac's mind to rid itself of its arranged thoughts. There wasn't anything else he could say or do, so walked over and sat on the sofa beside a brick fireplace mounted into the wall. A soldier wearing a white servant uniform immediately closed in and poured red tea into the teacup on the table. As the servant left without looking at him, Zac sensed that there was another stare looking at him.

Emilia LeBlanc, Matron of the Black Rose Society, stood behind Swain shaded by the lack of sun coming from the large windows behind her. Despite her wild and flashy fashion sense, her presence was covered by Swain in front of her. So much so that Zac had not noticed her until then. Perhaps she was deliberately trying to keep a low profile as she stood behind him. Either way, the stare LeBlanc was giving him was exceptionally tight when compared to Swain's, intimidating Zac a little. The servant walked out of the room, and the ones left to talk to were him and Swain.

Still sitting at his desk in front of him, Swain did not say anything. He put his arms on the table, locking his fists and using them to support his chin, giving a machine-like stare at Zac. He could not tell what either stares were looking for, and instead of being fearful, he found himself wanting to know what kind of people they were, and how they intended to deal with him.

"Did you know I was coming?" Zac asked.

"What will you say if I did? Is it strange to have tea with people who have killed you, and you have killed in turn? Young Zac."

There was a hint of ridicule in his voice, and both of their stares continued to cling onto him. Zac understood that his body and mind were being probed, and reacted simply by reaching for the tea in front of him and putting it to his lips. The flavor and aroma tasted familiar, and even the heat as well. "Hmm. Good response." Swain's voice could be heard clearly.

Swain casually got up, making his way around his own desk slowly and got closer to where Zac was sitting. Zac's eye was caught by the black rose in a vase, the only decoration on the desk of the Grand General. Up till now, the black rose had been swallowed by the presence of the master tactician and deceiver behind him. In this room that was covered with artificial things, this was an unnatural colored flower that asserted itself in his mind more than anything else.

"It is good that we can finally meet in a more formal setting. Although I did not extend an invitation, I had hoped you would make the effort to come here."

Swain stood in front of Zac and reached his right hand out, while Zac hurriedly look back at him. He was about to inadvertently respond to Swain, only to clench his hand that was about to reach out. _No, don't fall into his pace._

Zac felt a pulsating pain from his temples as he said cautiously, "It might be rude to ask, but is that mask really used for hiding a wound?"

Swain showed an unexpected expression on his face as he put his hand away. LeBlanc over his shoulder gave a more menacing glare, and Zac stared straight at the eyes of the master tactician.

"If that's not the case, I would like to see your face."

"You dare…!" LeBlanc muttered as she stepped forward, but Swain raised his free hand to stop her.

"It's alright, Matron. I know this young man is just talking about basic etiquette."

LeBlanc stopped in her tracks, her resentful and testing stare unrelenting despite Swain's words.

"I suppose everything I wear is part of a fashion statement. I might say it can be considered a method of propaganda, since I have an image to maintain. Sometimes I wonder if I'm scrutinized more at the Institute of War than in my own homeland."

Reaching up with the same hands he had used to stop LeBlanc, he pulled at the fabric covering his face firmly. Dragging it simply and cleanly down to his neck, he revealed a nose bridge that formed with nice lines and not as worn and aged as the rest of his body. What seemed the most outstanding, was that everything below his cheekbones reflected nothing similar to the rest of his body. The body of a man who had crossed countless battlefields, and subjected himself to different arcane magics of all types. The rumor about Noxian officers dabbling in necromancy to extend their natural lives crossed Zac's mind, but he decided to shelve it for another day.

"I forgot to take it off because no one would honestly ask like you have. My apologies."

Swain reached his hand out again. This time, there was no reason to refuse as Zac extending his own to shake firmly. The hand under the glove felt rather hard, causing Zac to remember the first impression of a wooden doll or puppet, Or maybe it was simply that he was still worried about getting up caught in the other party's pace. Zac decided to control himself, again, as he held back from letting his thoughts drift further.

Swain stepped back towards his table, and spoke, "There's still a lot about you I do not understand. I was not expecting you to be so comfortable accepting my offer, when we spoke earlier. Maybe I've underestimated your strength of character, but I find it very strange how quick you were to accept."

"I see where you're coming from, so please let me make it clear. I have no stance on anything we talked about." Zac sat back down slowly, making sure to gingerly pick up the small tea cup from its saucer without spilling its contents. "As far as I'm concerned, I'm just filling my obligations as an independent Champion in the League."

Swain stared at Zac curiously, scratching his chin as he did. "Is that so?"

He did not let go of the moment, narrowing his eyes and continuing, "But what if you were already planning on accepting my offer because someone had put you up to it. That would fit your view of things, but could mean a lot of problems for me. How about that?"

"Do I have a duty to answer that?"

Zac's heart had raced for a second when Swain had revealed what he already knew, and he mentally kicked himself for his clumsiness. Less than stellar response aside, it shouldn't have been a surprise that the master tactician probably had people shadowing him throughout the Institute. Ironically, Swain had probably pieced together the truth accidentally when he had been with Luxanna briefly yesterday afternoon. A classic mistake of wrong evidence leading to the correct conclusion.

Sharp footsteps could be heard as LeBlanc started walking towards him. Her hand was gripped on her staff, with the multi-faceted crystals dimly glowing. Her expression wore her old poker face, but behind it he could sense her killing intent. On and off the Fields of Justice, Zac often saw monsters and people alike showing such an expression with the powers to commit to it. As he felt this icy feeling from the bottom of his gut, Swain interjected, "That's enough, Emilia."

Her tense-looking brows forced out wrinkles as she stopped herself grudgingly. She then turned her back to both of them, a prideful display that was meant to doubly show her disdain for him. The first impression Zac had of LeBlanc seemed relatively spot on, as did the choice words Ahri had used earlier.

Swain waited to make sure LeBlanc's temper had been satiated, and continued, "You don't have a duty to answer."

"However, we still want information on your goals. It's because you are willing to babysit two of my subordinates that we're speaking in this gentle manner. I hope you remember this."

It was an obviously threatening line, but it seemed more insulting than anything else. A personal joke between the two of them, symbolic of the fact that they were using each other to their own ends. Remembering his original goal in this meeting, Zac clenched his sweaty hands and answered, "Someone once told me that the Institute of War would never last. That humans from different cultures are incapable of cooperation, even for their own survival. I want to prove her wrong."

Zac watched Swain glance back at LeBlanc momentarily, perhaps wondering if Swain thought he was referring to her. Frowning doubtfully, he scratched his chin in thought once more.

"The League of Legends is the most cooperative initiative humanity has made in our history," Swain merely continued without wavering. "For someone to not believe in it, they are either cynical or distrust humans themselves."

"I wish it were that simple," Zac sighed, unwilling to say any more on the subject. Having had more time to think about it in hindsight, everything that had happened in Sinful Succulence a day ago had been strangely surreal. The fact that Morgana had opened up to him so suddenly for their first real meeting stood out as the most peculiar fact. Maybe there was something about immortal angels that caused them to spill their guts out to mortals who were willing to sit silently and listen.

"Then, do you believe what the angels say?"

Again, Swain already knew exactly what he had been referring to without Zac having said anything more incriminating. Swain stared at the speechless Zac as he gradually continued.

"It's no secret that the power the Institute of War wields is in part from knowledge brought by those two angels. Do you believe that, perhaps in secret, we owe the stability of our world to them, and we should take their word on such matters?"

"Well… I don't know," Zac was forced to admit. "I wouldn't be surprised if both of them have knowledge or information that could cause our world to collapse. Since they are immortal, their kind could have destroyed this world a long time ago."

"You would think so, wouldn't you? I'm sure the angels have had their fair share of conquests over lesser creatures in their own world. I find it hard to believe that humans, who have such short life spans, are responsible for mediating peace between their kind."

That was something he had never considered. The stories about all of the different Champions that took part in the League ranged from dreadful horrors to feats of fantasy. Most of the stories he knew had to be taken with a grain of salt, considering the Institute of War constantly worked to build up the reputation of its Champions to legendary levels of fame and notoriety. But thinking about it now, assuming Morgana had been telling the truth, how had the Institute of War crossed between dimensions and stopped a civil war between beings who were superior to humans in almost every way?

"I understand that everything that goes on in the Institute of War shouldn't be taken for face value. I also know that the collective powers investing in Institute all have something they want to gain in return for their time and money. I just feel that, while it's not perfect, the Institute of War and the League can last to uphold the ideals that caused its founding."

Zac would never have thought of saying such things when he was with Ahri or Riven before, and he was shocked that he was expressing himself so fluidly like this.

"Hmm. You see the Institute of War as a vessel then? Something that carries with it the thoughts of intellectuals who were trying to prevent the destruction of this world." Swain began to walk back with a stroll-like pace to his desk. "Such a wish is more than possible, I would say. Although discerning the intentions of others isn't as simple as memorizing a timeline of past events. In the future, I'd advise you to remember that Noxians were not always a people who worshipped the military lifestyle. As I said before, I think adaptation is one of the required qualities of a leader."

That unexpected line was tossed at Zac so casually that it caused him to answer back with only silence. Seating himself at his desk slowly, LeBlanc had followed him back to stand a step behind him in the shadows.

"You still have a lot to learn, young man. I hope you'll be open to understand more about us. After that, I'll be grateful if you can be of outstanding assistance to us."

As soon as Swain had finished, the doors behind them opened up with Darius entering the room once more. Seeing that his time was up, Zac made an effort to finish the last of the tea served to him before getting up to leave. Before walking out he glanced one more time at the black rose, the lone flower sitting idle behind the two humans responsible for its symbolic might.

"I wish you luck on your journey, young man," was the last thing Swain said to Zac before he left the room. He was unable to tell if those words were meant to be sincere, when LeBlanc just behind Swain was still staring at him with a cold and heinous look in her eyes.

As the door closed behind him, LeBlanc inadvertently sighed. She checked herself for giving into the strange pressure she had felt. Still feeling a little enraged at the lack of respect that had been done right in front of her, she asked Swain, "Was that alright?"

"This is a test for him as well. Let us see if he passes or fails it on his own."

Swain answered with an emotionless expression. Despite everything that had happened, including the changes to their lives from living in the Institute as Champions, their thoughts could still connect. LeBlanc felt relieved by how she could feel what Swain was thinking, and recalled that it was not the same when Zac had been around. Maybe that was what she had felt antagonized by. Incensed by having something she liked taken away from her without warning or knowing why. _He never bothered to even introduce me when that thing was around…_

"I'm more concerned about Demacia's movements compared to this. According to how the situation goes, we may have to open negotiations with Zaun again."

LeBlanc did not know if her feelings had reached Swain who stated some pragmatic things. "You mean about investing in hextech?" she asked.

"Our demand for innovative weapons will be reduced in the future. Once we stop showing favoritism to Zaun, they might begin to get desperate. Then it's only a matter of time before the political partnership they offer us disappears in turn."

"You mean that Demacia will ask Piltover to do something?"

"That is a very high possibility. I don't trust Zaun to have enough foresight to plan out their future. That city-state and all of its inhabitants could become cancerous for Noxus in the future."

 _If we're renegotiating our contracts with Zaun, then it must mean he's going to go through with the changes we went over. Less funding for mindless projects of empty headed scholars, and the delusions of mad scientists. A revival of the magical arts and sciences in Noxus, and a blow to the order of red-blooded fools. The time to shed the sheepskin of the stale and rotting nobility is here. The time for the Black Rose to revive has arrived!_ LeBlanc secretly held back the rising sensation in her heart as she stared at this man who was the king of their world. The boy who she had known and been forced to part with so many years ago. Now she was a woman, and he was a man. Together, it seemed like they were finally ready to begin shaping the world together.

Swain took the black rose and put it near his lips, lowering his head as he continued, "How is the investigation of the Order of the Shadows going?"

"We're using the information the Institute of War provided. We've made some interesting discoveries."

"The Master of Shadows and the Dark Sovereign, you mean? It's strange, isn't it?"

LeBlanc though she could smell of the rose from where she was standing. "Hmm?"

At that moment, Swain stood up and said, "The Institute said that those two have begun working together recently. There's nothing in their common history that implies that either Zed or Syndra would put aside their pride to work together. I want our intelligence group to hurry up with their analysis. I have a hunch about something else I'll need them to investigate."

Swain slowly handed over the black rose in his hands over to LeBlanc, who began following behind him as he went to leave. She could see his shoulders were showing fatigue, even underneath the fabric and armor of his robes. "I'll be sure to tell them for you." LeBlanc straightened her back out of respect as she watched Swain leave from his office.

Once his back disappeared from the closing doors and out of sight, LeBlanc finally looked back at the rose she received.

The black roses her order had named itself after were an unnatural phenomenon in the world. The result of the ancient arcane magic the land around Noxus had been tainted with, in the days before the city-state had formed an identity. They were hard to obtain from so far way, even a single stalk of rose. This one had been ordered from a florist in the surrounding city, one of many brought in from Noxus to be seen if they could be cultivated near to the Institute of War. She had begun making an effort to put a new rose on Swain's table at least twice a week. _I wonder if Swain noticed that I'm the one who chose the vase too?_ LeBlanc suddenly thought as she turned her stare back to the vase that was standing there in a lonely manner.

"He's so tired, and yet wants to bear so much responsibility…"

Again, LeBlanc looked back at the rose in her hands. The deep black pedals that represented the endless potential of magic cultivated by humans. _Our color… The color of the abyss that burns in our bodies. This is the color of people who have seen the potential of magic, and live in this world with destiny on their backs._

LeBlanc could not control her impulse, as she crushed the stem of the rose.

"He actually let that...thing...see his real face!"

The blood dripped from her fist, flowing down the stem and staining the floor.


	13. Unstable Matters Chapter 12: Sophism

**Unstable Matters Chapter 12: Sophism**

_Who was it who wrote that time leads us to forget?_

_I guess the only ones who say things like that are either optimists, or people who have been shown the truth and are familiar with the concept of utter despair. In either case, it would be important to remember that words are both vague and multifaceted, and they rarely convey the truth. In the first entry I wrote, I promised that I would spin a story with my words. One that deserved to be handed down until the end of time, filled with lessons that have been told throughout countless generations._

_A lot of fairy tales are designed in ways that teach lessons listeners can understand. Like having heroes go through rigorous trials to become something greater. Or some unfortunate soul having to go through a lot of trial and error before understanding some greater meaning from their failures._

_The things that assail humans on Valoran are often born out of something frightfully simple like their own existences. Maybe Morgana was right when she said that humans are creatures of sorrow. When you consider that the only freedom granted to a protagonist in a story is the wild hope that they'll be freed from the complications of life, anyone would cry out with shock and sorrow in realizing that problems like that are inherent only to mankind._

_Very soon the second generation of humans born after the founding of the Institute of War will enter this world._

_It was believed that centralizing the knowledge and power of Valoran into a single neutral educational institution might open up the opportunity to save the world. The same world that had long since been at the mercy of mankind's destructive tendencies._

_But even after such a monumental organization was founded, mankind's continued adherence to petty divisions and classifications meant that wars of class, race, and territory would not come to an end. Perhaps the founders of the Institute, being scholars, wizards, and philosophers, predicted this. They designed the Institute of War in such a way that it would fan the flames of conflict between those of different class, different religion, and different lines of thought in a more productive way. Sowing the seeds of a new type of conflict. A new way in a new world for mankind to act out its primal instincts..._

_And so, history on Runeterra has come to a standstill._

* * *

Zac stared at the perfectly waxed sheen of Draven's moustache, and decided to change the subject. "Um, is there a reason you're asking me all of this?"

"Listen, don't take it personally kid, but from my perspective you don't know zip about the ways of the world," Draven said, laughing and patting him on the arm as he did. Zac had run into the Glorious Executioner while being lead back to the entrance of the Noxian Quarter by Darius, and for some reason, was being subjected to an endless bombardment of new questions. "I don't understand what's going on here myself, but I don't think you're leveling with me."

"Really?"

"Really. I mean, Swain choose _you_? And not _me_? You aren't known for your incredible charm and charisma," Draven said, pulling at his vest proudly. "Like me."

"I don't know either. He's acting like I'm something special, right? But I haven't had any special training or something that makes me stronger off the Fields of Justice."

"Well, then how come everyone else received direct orders from the Grand General himself concerning you? Normally Champions are just checked at the entrance for their identity and cleared to come inside. Don't you think it's a little odd that Swain personally ordered me and my brother to look out for you?"

That was news to him. Zac mulled over the hinted implications in Draven's words in silence, taking note of the look Darius was shooting him. The older of the Noxian brothers wasn't the type to say anything more than what was necessary, ever, but that look meant that those last few words were something that shouldn't have been said.

"Heh. Maybe it's because I've killed all of you so many times in League matches."

"Don't play me for the fool, kid." Zac noted how Draven was getting visibly angry.

"I'm not. I don't have any kind of crazy powers that are being held back by the magic those Summoners use, and even if someone told me I did, I wouldn't believe them."

"But…" Zac seemed to suddenly recall something. "But what if I did…?"

"Ah, whatever! Just forget I said anything," Draven conceded, throwing his arms up in the air in an exaggerated display of frustration. "But hey, about something more important; how did you get those two beauties to come with you?"

"Who?" Zac asked. "You mean Ahri and Riven?"

"Yeah! Duuuuh! When I heard that they were here, I couldn't believe it!" Draven exclaimed. "The only time that smoking hot succubus ever talks with anyone is when she's planning on eating their soul! And Riven? No one even knows where she goes when she's not fighting in the League! She's like a hermit, or some crap. What the hell did you say to get those two to come along with you!?"

Zac found himself taken aback, and at a loss for words. Ignoring the dramatization, he had been comfortable with the idea that Ahri, Riven, and himself had been getting along because of their mutual use for each other. But that was something that wouldn't last forever. He had assumed that their friendly relations with each other had been centered on that fact, but what if that wasn't the case? Was he making it harder on himself by being so coolly distanced? There was no reason to believe that even if everyone had ulterior motives, that they would be running against his own.

In spite of it all, he almost laughed. It was funny that he was stopping to reconsider different life-altering perspectives, only from the vague implication that he was starting an accidental harem.

Before he could think of something disarming to say back to Draven, Darius stopped and raised a steel fist for them too. Without Zac realizing it, they had already arrived back at the large wooden doors that preserved the Ivory Barracks from the rest of the Institute. Reaching under the plates of his armor, he pulled out a small envelope that was pinned closed by a red wax seal. Then he said in a flat voice, "These are yours to keep, for your eyes only. It has all of the information you'll need about your mission inside. What you share is up to you."

Zac found himself smiling as he took the envelope from Darius. "Really? Thanks for the information." It dawned on him that since he had no place to hide the envelop on his person, he was probably being set up for Ahri and Riven to see it too.

The two soldiers guarding the inner doors stepped forward to open them for them, and Zac took his first steps back outside. A rush of wind hit his face, and for some reason the air outside of the Ivory Barracks seemed hotter than inside.

"The convoy leaving the city for Zaun will head out at noon sharp. Be there early."

Darius and Draven stayed inside, and before he could even say anything back the doors were closed behind him. His hands were still sweating; small drops of himself rolling down the back of his hands that were reabsorbed the second they were almost pulled away by gravity. It was a lot of take in; everything Swain has said and his own thoughts on everyone else's strange behavior. But in spite of it all, he felt confident that he had put up a good enough act to secure their own safe passage across Runeterra, so long as they proved to be useful.

Grasping the small envelope in his large slimy palms, Zac looked it over. The red wax seal had some sort of symbol printed into it, something related to its origin. Other than that it seemed too light to be carrying of any serious significance, so without thinking much about it, he pushed it right into the center of his chest for safe keeping until he could open it later.

Walking down the path and through the iron gates at the entrance, Zac was ripped from his thoughts from an angry shout.

"Back off! I'm warning you!"

Ahri could feel the warm burning of her own magic in her open palm. A voice inside of her kicked herself for putting so much time into mastering her orb of deception, and not finding ways to make her fox fire more lethal. Compared to the spells of other mages in the Institute, it was nothing but a party trick that would only sting most of the monsters that lived around her.

Unfortunately, judging by the stupid smirk on Warwick's ugly face, the wolf-man hadn't been too phased from being hit with a fireball right into the side of his head.

"Feisty today, aren't you?" Warwick's jowls peeled back a little, in what she could only assume was some sort of amused sneer. Ignoring his own singed fur, he licked the outside of his own canines hungrily. "You shouldn't have done that, fox."

"Fuck off, you animal!" Ahri shot back angrily. She glanced down at where Riven had been knocked to the floor, and could see the blood running from her face where Warwick had taken a swipe at her. Despite being attacked, she hadn't made any moves to unsheathe her broken rune blade. "Who the hell do you think you are!? Attacking someone like that!"

Warwick let out a deep chuckle, and Ahri could feel her blood boiling. She had grown a thick skin to many things ever since she had started learning about her humanity, but there was something about men like Warwick she despised.

He was someone who took one of the most basic laws of the natural world, and perverted it with human arrogance. Calling himself a great hunter, while whoring himself out to the powers around him in return for their protection. There was something disgusting and hypocritical about it, which was completely different from other champions like Rengar or Nidalee.

"She's a soldier, isn't she?" Warwick said, he wicked smile growing when he noticed the blood dripping from Riven's face. "You should always stay on your guard when you're in enemy territory. Didn't they ever teach her that?"

In a blink of an eye Ahri pitched the fireball in her hand as hard as she could at him. But the eyes of the Blood Hunter saw it coming the second time. Warwick swung out with his claws, and struck the blazing flame down against the ground. The fireball burst with a loud pop, the magic flames fizzling out on impact in a bright flash. Just as fast as he had struck Riven, Warwick closed the distance between himself and Ahri.

Ahri put her arms up in reflex, to guard against the expected strike. But that sharpened steel swipe never came. Instead, Warwick grabbed onto her wrists with both of his hands. He pried her arms apart, pulling her closer to him as he did and blowing a hot puff of air from his nostrils right into her exposed face.

"I said you shouldn't have done that, fox," he growled, tightening his grip around her wrists as she struggled against him. Strength for strength, her own petite frame was no match for his. His wicked grin grew from the smell of fear, as he watched her wince away from him as he pulled her closer. "What can an animal like you do against a great hunter like me?"

"You're more of an animal than me!" Ahri spat, disgusted by the smell of fetid meat on his breath that was coming from every word he spoke. "You damn monster!"

"I can see the fire in your eyes, and the fear in your heart. I love it when my prey _struggles_." Warwick laughed, and Ahri felt her spine shiver in revulsion. He continued to laugh, even as she started kicking against his legs to free herself from his clutches. "I used to take a lot more living trophies, you know. How about becoming a part of my collection?"

Without warning, he felt her stop her fighting against him. Her arms went limp, but he kept his grip firm on her. Looking down at the ground, Ahri said something as quiet as a whisper on the wind.

"Speak up fox," Warwick demanded, moving closer so that they were almost nose to nose. He could smell the flowery perfume she had applied to herself in the morning, and licked his jowls in wonderment if she would taste just as lovely.

"Warwick, the big strong human hunter," Ahri mumbled, her tone neutral of any intent.

"Groveling will get you nowhere," he sneered. "If you're going to beg, then get on your knees and beg like the beast you are."

"Warwick, Warwick, Warwick…"

"What!?"

"Warwick," Ahri said one last time, finally looking back up at him. She beamed the biggest smile her face would allow at him, readying herself for what she wanted to say.

"Go fuck yourself."

She threw herself forward, spitting at him and hitting him right between the eyes.

"You bitch!" Warwick roared, letting go of her to wipe her spit out from his eyes. But before she could do anything with her freedom, he raised a leg and swiftly struck her.

Ahri felt the air in her lungs fly right out of her even before she hit the ground, kicked by the full weight of the mutant human's strength. She was coughing and gasping for breath at the same time, a violent and painful exchange as she clutched her stomach where she had been struck. The stone floor of the Institute didn't help matters, and she could feel her knee and shoulder that she had landed on throbbing in pain.

"You think you're funny, do you!?" Warwick demanded. Furiously wiping his eyes clean, his own spit flew freely in the air as he shouted at her. "No one disrespects me! I'll teach you what it means to be a hunter's prey!"

Watching like a spectator, Zac felt his own jaw hanging slack at what had just happened right in front of him. His legs felt like he had just been hit by the cold steel magic wave the randiun's omen shield could make. A voice inside of him wanted to run over to Ahri and Riven, not even thinking about Warwick. Beating him up would come later. Or sooner. The order of events wouldn't really matter.

But… What if it was a trap?

What was Warwick doing outside of the Noxian quarter of the Institute of War? Why had he just attacked Riven out of the blue when there were steep penalties for Champion fights outside of the Fields of Justice? Why weren't either of the guards posted outside of the Noxian quarter doing anything? Why was this happening just after he had met with Swain? Why—

"Hey."

Zac looked over his shoulder in surprise, ripping out of his thoughts that had been spiraling out of control. He was met by a far too familiar face touched by a unique scar and hugged by crimson red hair.

Katarina Du Couteau had her arms crossed over her chest, and all he could do was stare back dumbly as she spoke again.

"What's the _matter_ with you?" she asked. He could sense what she was implying, the agitation in her voice directed at his frozen composure. Without warning she reached around her back, grabbing one of her signature blades and holding it out in an offering to him.

"Aren't you a man? Go do what you have to do."

For a second he considered taking what she was offering: a chance to walk the easiest route of all. The most absolute and conclusive of all his options; bringing a swift and sharp death to someone who, admittedly, had it coming. No arguing philosophies with a madman, or debating ethics with a beast. He didn't have to make it painful, or draw it out into something more dramatic than it should be. In one swift stroke, Warwick would bleed out like any other living creature in the Institute, albeit the more human-like ones.

Yes, for a second he considered taking what she was offering.

But only for a second.

Turning his back to her, he started walking over to where Warwick still screaming threats at Ahri who was on the ground. Katarina stayed silent, uncrossing her arms and holding an open palm out to the two soldiers at the front gates who had watching and waiting for her orders. The message was clear; since he had turned down her generous offer, she wanted to see what would happen.

Still unnoticed, she watched as Zac get right behind the oblivious wolf-man and raise his foot into the air. The green goo of his body seemed to condense, forming taut muscle-like curves. Without warning, he brought it down hard against Warwick's arched ankle, snapping it in two.

Like a sack of bricks Warwick collapsed onto the floor, letting out a primal howl in pain. He whipped himself around, snarling like a wild animal as he held his broken ankle in his blue furred hands. His red eyes widened when he saw who had suddenly attacked him.

"You—! I'll kill you for—"

Zac reached out, lifting the wolf-man up by the blue fur on his chest. He held him, pulling him up off of the ground and putting his snout inches from his face. "I want you to remember something, blood hunter," Zac said, staring Warwick in the eyes and ignoring his efforts to claw at his arm to get free.

"No one fucks with my team."

Zac reeled his right arm back as far as it would stretch, molding his fingers into a solid fist before launching them forward. Katarina watched in some satisfaction as Zac's fist, as big as her head, collided with the side of Warwick's face knocking the mutant human into the air.

Still on the ground and winded from the blow to her stomach, Ahri looked up to see the body of her attacker fly over her. Warwick's body slammed against the ground, still traveling with enough momentum that he bounced on impact before slamming into a nearby wall. With all of his limbs crumpled in different directions, she knew the single blow had either knocked him out or outright killed him.

"Huh. Not exactly what I had in mind, but still satisfying," Katarina said, clapping her hands slowly and walking over to Warwick's body. Ruthlessly, she gave him a strong kick into his side. There was a small pool of blood forming from where Zac's fist had caved in the side of Warwick's face.

"Pathetic. Once a great hunter, now nothing but a slobbering animal."

In war there were always brave young individuals who distinguished themselves and soared in the ranks. For a city-state like Noxus that was always fighting someone or some group somewhere, there always laid the endless potential for fame and glory on the chaos of an open battlefield.

Katarina Du Couteau, unlike Riven, Sion, Urgot, Swain, or Darius, was not one such individual. Her destiny was to be the same as many of her fellow Champions, but different at the same time.

The ascent through the core ranks of Noxus' military assassins had not been without its ceremonial falterings and sundry spiteful amusements, as Zac had read deep in the Institute's archives. She had been trained to walk, then to run, and then how to kill from her birth. Incredible talents aside, Katarina had always held an edge over her contemporaries, since her family lineage had been core part of the Noxian military nobility for over a century. Her social class as the daughter of nobility had only been buffered by her incredible talent before the days of the League. Katarina Du Couteau was guarded, loyal, calculated, methodically mendacious, and an all-around professional in just about everything she was assigned to do.

But that was before the Institute of War and the League of Legends that followed. Before the end of global wars, before the conspiracy around her family, before the destruction of the Darkwill lineage, and before the internal military revolution in Noxus.

What remained of the strong willed woman who was famous worldwide for her blood-red hair and skill with a sword? The living ghost of the old military order in Noxus.

What did she fight for? Did she hold a grudge against Swain for sweeping her father aside in his ambitions? Was she even aware of the deeper conspiracy involving the Black Rose? Or when it came to political ideals, was she more flexible than she let on?

These were the questions his mind begged him to ask, but at the same time, knew would never be answered.

"Well, here you are bringing trouble to my doorstep. Care to explain yourself, Jumbo?"

"I was invited, actually." Zac walked over to Katarina's side to see what damage he had wrought for himself. He glanced down at Warwick, noting the number of teeth missing from his mouth that was still bleeding freely. "Trouble tends to find me, regardless though."

"Ahh, that's right," Katarina said, snapping her fingers thoughtfully. The sword she had offered him had already been slipped back into its sheath strapped over her back. "They mentioned you were going to show up. I'm surprised you found the courage to."

"That's funny, actually," said Zac, choosing ignore the insult thrown his way. "Who is 'they' in your case?"

"Who else? Swain, of course."

"That's very funny then, because Swain made it clear that this wasn't something he wanted everyone to know about," Zac lied, trying to sound as earnest as he could despite that fact. "But then he goes and meets me in a semi-public place. From the way Darius was acting, I was wondering if he even bothered to tell you about it."

"I know. Trust me when I say that it was a test to see if you could keep things a secret. That's how he does things."

"Then he gave me no chance to pass it."

"Well, unlike the master bird-brain, I choose to trust Champions I get stuck with. Without trust, what else is there? I don't do the whole shadowy chess master bullshit," Katarina explained reasonably, albeit with the harsh abrasiveness that she was known for. "I'll give you proof of that right now. You should know that all of the hextech communication devices in your apartment have been bugged."

Zac caught his breath, stunned by the sudden amount of frank honesty. "How the hell do you know that?"

"Because I did it. Remember that you left before me?" She rolled her eyes at him, frowning at his inability to keep up. "There, see? There haven't been any recordings from the wards, because you didn't use anything last night. You went with that vixen to her home to do god knows what."

"Shit, I don't know what I know." Zac soaked up the disagreeable intelligence with a prolonged groan.

"Look on the bright side, kid. Now you'll always think about these things. The Institute is always watching us, so why wouldn't things like your mail, magic devices, travel papers, and bank accounts be monitored by someone?"

"Katarina, how do you know all of this?"

"You can call me Kat, Zac. Everyone else does."

"How do you know all of this, Katarina?"

Furrowing her brow from his stubborn unwillingness to cooperate, she turned and snapped to the guards who had been hovering behind them the whole time awkwardly. "You two! Dump him somewhere else! I don't care where, just get his Zaunite stink away from our home!" She then turned back to him, after looking over him and seeing that Ahri was helping Riven stop the bleeding from the scrapes across her face.

"For the last year I've been in charge of a lot of deals for Noxus in the shadows of this world. Important deals. So imagine my surprise when I'm suddenly told that, not only will I be delivering something incredibly important to a group that hates our guts, but, I'll be doing it with three Champions from the Institute who have no business getting involved in our business."

"You're worried about being set up? Even with your immunity?"

Katarina narrowed her eyes, closing the gap between them and giving him a hard stare.

"Answer my questions first, and maybe I'll answer some of yours. Okay?" she asked, her voice low and cold.

Refusing to be intimidated, Zac pressed back in a harder manner. "I don't know what he told you, but I'll say it again to you. I'm here because I want to preserve the peace. Riven and Ahri are with me because they can help me do that."

"How convenient. Your story about world peace I could buy, and maybe even the idea of that fox being helpful. But her?" Katarina crossed her arms, with one hand jabbing a sharp finger in the direction of Riven. "Our dirty laundry that's been in plain sight for the world to watch ever since she showed up? Your timing is a little too convenient for me."

"What's it to you?" he felt compelled to ask. "She's never had an opinion on anything about Noxus other than her distaste for Zaun. That's more in line with what Swain is turning to now, isn't it?"

"I don't care about that. It isn't about politics, it's about our reputation. I'm not stupid; I'm damn well aware that most of the Champions from my homeland are never a part of popular pick combinations these summoners are coming up with all of the time. Your Battle Bunny over there, however, is one very popular pick. And not just because her ass looks good in a skin tight costume."

"...You're telling me you're jealous, Kitty Kat?"

Katarina gave him an amused sneer, scoffing loudly as she did. "Don't be stupid. It's bad enough that she's a deserter from our elite forces. Do you expect me to be _happy_ working with her outside of the Institute?"

Zac felt himself grimacing tightly, now knowing that the white-haired exile wasn't something Katarina had any intention of letting go of. When he had met with Swain only minutes earlier, Zac had wondered if something would be said about his choice of accomplices, tasteless or otherwise. But Swain hadn't even brushed the subject, and in hindsight, maybe it was his lackluster answers and behavior in front of Swain had said enough. When it came to Noxians with power, nothing was safe to assume. Realizing it now, he had underestimated how much freedom Katarina had in operations she led, despite that they were all undoubtedly handed down by Swain at the very top of the High Command.

He stayed silently, pretending to think about what she had said while weighing his own options. Mentioning anything about the I.S.C.P. and Riven was out of the question. Hell, he didn't have a full grasp as to why Riven herself seemed so obsessed over the idea of coming with him. The fact that she was letting Ahri mess around with her for the entire morning only contributed to how determined she seemed to be. It really was nothing short of an obsession, now that he thought about it more.

If he didn't even know why she was coming with him, what could he promise Katarina?

"If I promise to keep her on a short leash, would that be enough?"

"I want more than that. She's a loose end, and I won't have that in my operation." Katarina stopped and looked back toward Riven, her eyes reflecting someone deep in thought. But Zac knew better; the assassin already had something in mind, and was eyeing up Riven as she rehearsed how to say it to him in her head.

"I'm not sure what you're looking for here. I'm not her commander or something like that."

"How about this? Give her to me. You and the fox can do whatever it is you two have been doing, and I'll take care of our lost property myself."

"Not happening," Zac said immediately, shaking his head. Everything he had said in protest to Kolminye a day ago was starting to come back to him, and the idea of leaving Riven in Katarina's hospitality didn't sit well without having to use his imagination. "I'm more than aware about her past and what you think of her, but I'm letting her come along for a reason. I need to keep her close to me."

"Really. And what reason is that? Huh? Don't tell me you like staring at her ass too." Katarina gave him a disgusted frown, crossing her arms over her chest once more.

Zac glanced back at Ahri and Riven, then to the two Summoner guards who were leaving with Warwick's body dragging between them. He needed an excuse, desperately.

Or maybe something better.

A distraction; something that would cause Katarina to doubt what she already knew, whether it was true or not. Anything that could make it seem like he would be an asset, and not a liability.

Then it hit him. If his left hand was going to cause problems, why not solve it with his right?

"Ahri is being used as a puppet," Zac whispered with a sense of urgency, but just loud enough for Katarina to hear. "LeBlanc wants to use her to sabotage your mission, and get in better graces with Swain."

"What—!?" For only a fraction of a second, the confident facade Katarina always sported fell. But as fast as it had fallen it was back up, and replaced by something...else. Her face then darkened as she reached up, grabbing him by his lower jaw and bending him down just enough so that they were even.

"You're lying," Katarina hissed. Her voice had the sting of pure undiluted acid, and knew that he had touched on something more than a simple sore point. "You have some damn nerve, trying to throw me off by using _her_ name."

"You think so? I've run into some coincidences myself over the last couple of days," Zac said, continuing to talk despite his lower jaw being stretched out like rubber. "For the last two weeks, I know LeBlanc has been teaching Ahri in private for nothing in return. Then out of the blue, she shows up and wants to come with me on this mission with you. She's claiming that she's doing it because of a love for Ionia, but does she really look like the kind that risks her neck in philanthropic acts?"

Zac watched Katarina's jaw move, as if she were chewing on something tough and leathery. Maybe it meant that she understood now what kind of position he was in too. Caught in an intersection of intents by a lot of powerful people they both couldn't say no to. The mental storm still raging in her head, she glared at him again before looking back to Ahri once more.

Somehow her angry scowl only got deeper.

"What does this have to do with Riven?"

"I need her to keep track of Ahri, because you can't stop that fox from doing anything once she's off that ship," Zac said. "You may be in charge of everything on the _Garuda_ , but the moment we make landfall anywhere it's open season for trouble to come knocking."

"If you don't trust her, then why did you _choose_ her?"

"I didn't have a say in that. Some head honcho Institute Summoner wanted an independent Ionian Champion to tag along, and I got stuck with her."

"If I can't keep track of her, how the hell is Riven going to do that?"

"She will. If you're going to trust me, then trust me on that."

"...This isn't over," Katarina threatened, letting him go suddenly. She then shoved her way past him, and walked over to talk to where Riven and Ahri still were. Out of the line of fire, Zac rubbed his own jaw sorely to make sure that it hadn't been deformed from her iron grip. As he did, he felt someone gently tap him on the shoulder from behind.

"What did you say to her?" Ahri asked, her cheeks puffed out in a huff. Her tails behind her were fluffed out, waving about like angry snakes.

"Just the usual crap. Use your imagination," Zac muttered frankly, unable to hear what Katarina was saying to Riven from where they were standing. "What did she say to you?"

"She told me to 'screw'."

"What? Screw?"

"Yeah! Just like this!" Ahri jerked her thumb over her shoulder in a clean and simple motion. "Just like that! The nerve of that bitch, talking like I'm one of her toy soldiers…"

"Don't take it to heart. I said a couple of things that ruffled her feathers," Zac admitted humbly, noting that whatever Katarina and Riven were talking about hadn't come to blows yet.

"How is she? Nothing too serious, right?"

"Who? Riven? Of course she's fine. It could have been worse, but she still had the reflexes of a soldier," Ahri said, waving her hand dismissively. "Why don't you ask her yourself if you're concerned?"

"I'll get around to it," Zac said, looking back at the iron gates that lead deeper into the Noxian Quarter. With everything that had happened, the grounds around them were still strangely silent. "Right now, I just want to get as far away from here while we still can. This place isn't safe for us."

He watched her turn to look toward where the pair of Noxian Summoners had dragged off Warwick's body. There was a small trail of blood drops that stained the hard stone floor, like some macabre trail markings. He wondered for a second if her delicate sensibilities had been stunned by the violent display, but then remembered how stupid such a thought was in consideration to who he was talking to and where. Without him realizing it, he had walked into a surreal blend of what was expected on a Field of Justice, and the world Riven had described in her accusations a night ago.

"You really did a number of him," Ahri said quietly, in a way that made Zac wonder if she had gotten her fill of violence for one day.

"He had it coming. Katarina will vouch for me on that. How are you feeling?" Zac asked with concern.

Ahri placed a hand over her stomach. The pain from the blow had already subsided, and maybe there would be a bruise there tomorrow. She considered asking to go to one of the many doctors' offices in the Institute, but not if it would complicate preparing for their mission tomorrow. In hindsight her injury was hardly anything to complain about, since there were a million and one worse ways she had been injured when fighting on a Field of Justice.

What had struck her more than anything else, and still remained like a lingering regret in her mind, was the energy that had been knocked out of her. The blow had been underhanded and dirty, coming from someone who probably had a lot of experience attacking his targets in dirty ways. But the feeling of helplessness afterward, unable to even force herself to stand up or shout, was more bitter than her own bile that she had swallowed back down. Yes, bitter was the word for it. She was bitter over how much weaker her own body felt without the magic of the Institute behind her.

"I'll be fine. He caught me off guard, that's all," Ahri said, maybe trying to convince herself too.

"What about Riven?"

"What about her?"

"...Is she alright?"

Ahri looked at him oddly, in a way Zac wasn't sure why. "You asked me that already. I told you that it wasn't that bad, remember?"

"...No, I don't," Zac admitted, rubbing his temples gingerly for a few seconds.

Zac was dumbfounded by his own momentary lapse in memory. His head was throbbing in a pain that wasn't quite a pain. Was it regret? He was hardly the type that bothered to think twice about everything he did, for better or for worse, but was the sudden fog clouding his mind coming from guilt? Five minutes ago he never would have thought to hold back against Warwick, after seeing what he had done to Ahri and Riven. Katarina's timely antagonism aside, had the assassin's words actually goaded him into his swift and brutal response?

Items and artifacts aside, the magic runes and mastery spells Summoners could choose from before fights began were responsible for the strength different champions wielded. Off the Fields of Justice, however, many formidable champions were not nearly as strong. Warwick had always been one of those types he had figured for being durable off the Fields, with the magic Summoners employed giving him more lethality on it.

Where had the power he had drawn from come from? That strength that let him break bones and knock Warwick aside with ease. It was surprising how easily he had defeated the mutant human, almost as if he were still on a Field of Justice.

 _Maybe I'm just stronger than I look_ , Zac thought to himself, balling his hand into a fist once more.

Ahri watched him flex his open palm, noting how his own eyes seemed fixated on opening and closing the palm on his hands. Open. Closed. Open. Closed. Like someone awakening from a long sleep, or warming up for some sort of exercise.

"...Feeling guilty about something?" she asked, after waiting a moment to see if he would stop.

"You can tell?"

She was watching him in a studious way that he was starting to become accustomed to. Maybe because he couldn't sense any sneaky intent behind it. It was just that there was something distinctly Ahri-like about it, that just wouldn't be the same with people like Riven or Katarina. Maybe it was just the difference between a trained soldier and someone who was self-taught.

"I guessed. You shouldn't second guess yourself when it comes to saving others."

"It's not that," Zac denied, still regretting his indecision to immediately confront Warwick from before. "I just hope that what I did doesn't come to bite us in the ass later."

"When you make a big omelet, you can't worry about an egg or two. Right?"

"...Yeah, I get what you mean," Zac said quietly, a sneaky feeling of déjà vu running past him. Ahri winked at him in a unsubtle assertion of her wit.

Taking a second to breathe and collect himself, he looked at how Katarina and Riven seemed to still be talking. From what he could see the two of them seemed to be getting along swimmingly. Which, thinking about it, was probably a worse sign than anything else.

"So… What did you and Swain talk about? And what's that in your chest?"

It was an honest question; one that he had been dreading answering. With everything that had unfolded so suddenly, he had never even gotten a second to think of how what he was going to tell Riven and Ahri about meeting with Swain. Before he could think of something to deflect her curiosity, she quickly lashed out with a second strike.

"Don't you trust me?"

Ahri stuck her tongue out at him playfully, trying to defuse some of the overwhelming animosity that was hanging over him. It was probably safe to surmise that something new had happened to add to the weird happenings in the night before. Met with an awkward silence in waiting for her answer, she let out a loud pitying sigh, before crossing her arms behind her back and beginning to walk in a slow circle around him.

"You still don't trust me with the truth? Or are you afraid of something?"

"It's not like that," Zac tried to deny, that feeling of déjà vu starting to turn rotten in his gut. He watched Ahri put a single finger to her lips, slowly reaching out to do the same to him with her other hand. After another moment of waiting, she removed her finger from her own lips when she spoke.

"Smile."

Zac looked down at her, blinking in surprise. She looked back up with him with sympathetic eyes and her own slim smile.

"I like it better when you smile. Or when you tell jokes," Ahri said decisively, after a moment had passed. She had stopped her pacing, finger still touching his lips, and still staring at him straight in his eyes. "I told you before, didn't I? You shouldn't be so serious. With a face like that, Riven will never open up to you."

"But I'm n—"

He felt Ahri push her finger more firmly against his lips.

"Hush. Don't be ashamed of your fear. I know there is a lot riding on this, and it's a lot more than you're willing to tell me. But you shouldn't push away your friends because they know you're afraid. Trust me on that."

"Friends, huh?" Zac asked, suddenly aware of the cynical bitterness that seemed to unintendedly permeate from his own voice. "Is that what we are? Is that what you call it?"

Ahri blinked at his tone, her finger still on his lips, and turned her head at him ever so slightly.

"Of course we are. Don't you think so too?"

At that moment everything around Zac seemed strange. Like he was standing between two waterlogged realities. His head was still throbbing from the mystery pain, but he felt himself in awe at Ahri's rapturous contentment. She seemed like some sort of being out of a dream, incapable of being bruised or suppressed by the miserable world around them. He envied that maturity more than she would ever know, and wondering how she had acquired such strength put a dread in him that felt unsurmountable.

"...I'm sorry," Zac apologized after a little, after realizing how he was treating her.

"Don't apologize, silly." Ahri winked encouragingly at him again, dragging her finger nail down his chin in a slow and deliberate manner. "Let's just blame the Institute and call it even, okay? Now… How about you take a guess at what they're talking about," Ahri said, looking around him. Zac twisted his neck around, enough to see that Katarina was still talking to Riven some distance behind him.

"I don't know. What do Noxians talk about?"

"What do—? Hmm… Maybe, fighting and...stuff?" Ahri scratched her head and shrugged. Noticing his look of amusement from her own lame answer, she puffed her cheeks up at him threateningly. "What!? Do I look like I would know!?"

"I don't know. You know a lot of things," Zac conceded, scratching the back of his head and looking away. Hearing Ahri let out a loud bull-like snort, he almost laughed in spite of himself. Even though he had no muscles or nerves to speak of, he really could feel his entire self-calming down as he did. It was as if some sort of great burden he hadn't realized he had been carrying had been lifted from his shoulders.

"Maybe they're making some sort of master plan. Something to overthrow Swain, and make Katarina the leader of Noxus?"

"Then it's a good thing we're on this mission together," Zac said, trying not to laugh at the idea. "If the future leader of Noxus owes us, maybe we could use it to do some good."

"For whom?"

"That's the real question, isn't it?" Zac gave a self-effacing laugh. He was slowly realizing that there was a lot between them that was not necessary to put into words. "If I'm going to become manipulative and deceitful, then I might as well do it for a good cause."

"You know… I wasn't really sure you liked me, until today." Ahri revealed with a touch of timid grace. He watched her edge even closer to him, in barely noticeable manner.

"Well, we're in this together," said Zac evasively, "and what are friends for?"

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing. Because, there _is_ something you can do for me, in return for trying to sell me out to Katarina," Ahri explained, and Zac visibly winced.

"You heard that, huh."

"My ears just don't frame my face. I can hear what Kat and Riven are talking about too."

"...Ugh, I'm sorry. Again."

"Sorry that you used me to distract a psychotic killer? Or sorry that I caught you?"

"Honestly? Both," Zac admitted, looking away in shame. Ahri sighed, shaking her head at him and covering her face with the palm of her hand.

"Oh, Zac. My dear sweet secret weapon," she bemoaned dramatically. "Leave the treachery and backstabbing to people who know how. Okay? Not having a good poker face can get us both killed out there."

"Yes ma'am. I bow to your superior experience in the art of seduction and manipulation." He grinned at her, and she returned his expression too.

"I'm going to hold you to that, you know. Learning to lie isn't just something you can pick up overnight. And I mean what I said before, I want to see you smile more too," Ahri added, by which Zac understood her to mean that his misery was contagious. "You can't be happy if you have to be on your guard all of the time. A life like that isn't...natural. It's too easy to lose yourself in this...this…"

"A world away from the world?" Zac ventured to suggest.

"Yeah, something like that," Ahri said. "Come to think of it, I don't want to be nosey, but… Do you have a home to go to?"

"Home?" Zac pretended to ponder. That was something he did not want to touch on, for a lot of reasons. One of them being, namely, that both of his parents were still wanted fugitives in Zaun for absconding him during his youth. Protection and amnesty for them had been one of the things promised to him in exchange for his loyalty to the Institute of War, but that didn't mean that it was something open for casual discussion.

"Not really. I'm just...here...all of the time. Why do you ask?"

"I thought so. I was thinking before, about what we were talking about yesterday. No Champions really live here, well, excluding the monsters," she continued. "Everyone has some place they go back to. Some place to call home; an escape from the suffocating pressure of the Institute. Maybe we need to find you one too?"

"You sound like you have an idea already in mind."

"Maybe," Ahri teased. "All in due time, my _dear_ friend. All in due time."

"So wait, if what you said was true…" Zac looked over his shoulder, and pointed a finger toward Katarina and Riven across his own waist. "I want to know; what _do_ Noxians talk about?"

"Do you listen to yourself? You should have more faith in your _friends_ , mister." Ahri said, slapping him on the arm lightly. "Shame on you. Don't you think Riven would tell us if we just asked? And don't you think I would have said something if it was anything important?"

"...Yeah, I guess you're right," Zac conceded, after thinking about it. "I'm just trying to play it safe, you know? I don't want to be sold as a test subject to some Zaunite lunatic so Riven go back to being in Noxus' good graces."

She shot him a glower, before hitting him on the same arm much harder. "You see? That's what I'm talking about! What's gotten into you?" she demanded. "How can you call yourself a friend when you don't even trust her?"

"Who said we're friends?" Zac said back. Ahri scoffed, and he knew that she was going to lay into him for acting like an immature child.

" _She_ told me. Riven told me you were both friends when I asked about it this morning. Got anything smart to say about _that,_ Zac?"

He wanted to say something back. Something to point out the irrefutable proof he had that everything in the world around them was twisted and warped. People who told the truth were treacherous, and people who lied were selfish, but trustworthy. Good causes often fell short, and terrible people got what they wanted for longer than they deserved. Again, the sense of déjà vu was coming back to him. His tongue felt fat in his own mouth and, unable to think of anything smart to say back, he chose to stay silent.

"That's what I thought," Ahri said, a little too smugly for his liking. "Now, when you ask what Riven was talking about with Katarina, I expect you to believe what she has to say. Do you understand me?"

"Have we had this conversation before?" Zac asked testily, sulking as he looked away.

"No, I would have remembered it if it was important," Ahri said, and he saw the slightest smug smirk tugging at her lips. "Now be nice, and remember what I told you. Here she comes."

Zac and Ahri watched Katarina pat Riven on the shoulder, in a way that seemed far too personable and familiar for an assassin who looked down on the world. Without even sparing a glance his way, Katarina strutted back into the Noxian Quarter of the Institute of War, pushing the giant iron gates behind her and slamming them shut.

He noticed Riven was still looking at the solid steel doors that Katarina had disappeared behind as she made her way back over to them. The bandage on her cheek was stained with an all too familiar red, which was barely beginning to bleed through the other side. He could see the dried blood caked on the palm of her hand, the same hand she has probably used to try and stop her bleeding, and felt his guts pitch in guilt at the sight of it.

"How are you feeling?"

"I've been better," Riven said, putting her bloody palm against the bandage over her cheek. He watched her turn and look at the bleeding trail Warwick had left behind, the nasty sight not having been cleaned up yet. "What about you? Did you really knock him out with that hit?"

"Yeah, well, I almost strained a muscle doing it, but I think I'll live," Zac joked, but Riven didn't seem to find it funny.

"You didn't have to do it."

"I think he deserved it."

"I'm not saying that. I'm saying that you didn't have to get involved," said Riven, and Zac wondered if what he was sensing was a hint of resentment. "If he holds a grudge against you, it could be a problem in the future when we head to Zaun."

"Then I'll just have to do it again. Or you'll just have to return the favor, and beat him up for me," Zac said, giving her a nonchalant shrug as he did. "How about that?"

"We both owe you for today," Ahri said, speaking up and stepping around from behind Zac purposefully before Riven could respond. "But I'm sure there will be a lot of changes to pay you back. For better, or for worse."

"Yeah. What she said," Zac agreed, with those five words leaving his mouth in a strange way that he desperately hoped would not come back to haunt them. He listened to Riven say the same words in agreement, smiling faintly too. It was good to see. Knocking out Warwick had felt different. It was as if his anger had been directed not only at his enemy in front of him, but also the whole trail of sins and failings that had allowed them to flourish. A punch in the right direction for a right reason.

"If Katarina gave you an earful, I hope you aren't taking it seriously. She's jealous of you, you know."

Riven looked at him oddly. "What makes you think that?" she asked, as Ahri began to work silently at straightening out Riven's clothes that had been dirtied and messed up.

"Take my word for it," he continued matter-of-factly, "and don't ask me how I know. Maybe it's just that you're a better fighter than her. Or that you can beat a lot of opponents her kind of fighting doesn't stand a chance against. Whatever it is, she's probably going to be a pain until we can work over her ego."

"It makes sense if you think about it," Ahri chimed in, gently but forcefully patting down Riven to get the dirt and dust out from her clothes. "Have you ever heard the story about the frog that leaves the pond for the ocean? The frog leaves the pond for new waters, but the frogs left behind that only know about their own pond can't understand what else is in the world. To them, the frog leaving is either foolish for leaving or something to be envied for having the courage to leave."

"Yeah, it's like that," Zac agreed. "The way I see it, Kitty Kat is like a living ghost; chained to the earth by the expectations of people who are long dead."

"...You make her sound like a tragic figure if you put it that way," Ahri remarked, mildly impressed by his ability to eloquently put to words what she had been thinking too.

"Maybe she is, in some way," Zac rubbed his own chin in consideration. "But that doesn't change the fact that she's an arrogant pain in our asses."

"Yeah, she is. But she's strong Zac, really strong," Riven said, the smile he had worked hard for disappearing, replacing by something foreboding. She was stopped from continuing briefly by Ahri, who had forced her to lift up her arms so that she could clean there too.

"She doesn't look like it, but I know Katarina is weaker on the Fields of Justice than off it. A lot of assassins in the Crimson Elite are strong, but they only know how to assassinate targets. Quick and clean kills, usually by traps or by surprise. But not her; she knows to how fight with just about anything she can hold in her hands. We have to be careful."

"I was wondering about that. Better safe than sorry, right?"

"Yeah, because… There's a chance it's going to get...complicated. Really complicated."

Zac felt himself swallow, in spite of trying to put on a strong showing. "As in…?"

"There's going to be bloodshed. Probably. A lot of it." Riven explained. "Katarina wants to make sure that we won't—"

"Get in her way when she's knee deep in bodies?" Zac interrupted, and he felt one of Ahri's tails strike him against his knee with a measured degree of force. "Well, someone is going to have to fight whether we like it or not. It's sad to say, but a lot of scumbags aren't going to be scared off just because we're champions. So it might as well be us, because whether we say yes or no it's going to happen, right?"

"...That's one way to look at it," Riven said neutrally. "I guess whatever helps you sleep at night."

"That's my line. How about you? Any problems with using that big blade of yours for Noxus again?"

Riven stayed silent, reaching around to her side where her broken rune blade stood out oddly in its sheath against the outfit Ahri had dressed her in earlier. He watched her gently brush the steel plates reinforcing the handle of the weapon, with an almost fearful reverence, and felt another one of Ahri's tails hit him on his leg for a second time.

"I don't know. I never thought I would be doing something like this again, and definitely not for my homeland. But you said it yourself; someone has to fight whether we like it or not. Maybe it's some sort of twisted fate that it's going to be me."

"Not you, us. And if that card scamming gypsy is a god in disguise, then he isn't worth believing in," Zac remarked dryly. "We're only being asked to protect whatever is on that ship. Katarina isn't going to wage war against all of Ionia with a single iron freighter for her fleet. All Noxus wants right now is money."

"Money, right. You know it's never that simple, right?"

"Of course, but we can play the fool long enough to find out what Katarina is really being sent after. Hell, I'm starting to think that we're not really here to help her at all."

"You too, huh?"

"Yeah. Nothing is adding up here, and that's what worries me."

"Hey, how about an explanation for people who aren't good with international politics?" Ahri asked, raising her hand in the air now that she was done with her impromptu grooming inspection. "And maybe we should do it somewhere that _isn't_ right outside the home of the people we don't trust?"

"Yeah, let's get out of here," Zac muttered, turning to leave. He watched Riven glance at the Noxian Quarter briefly, with an unreadable look on her face. If he wasn't sure about anything, then maybe he wouldn't be so alone after all. Before, his only real precious hope was that he and the people he cared about would survive another day. Tomorrow would be the same, but there always was that chance that it wouldn't.

"So, what's the plan?"

"That's the question everyone asks," Zac remarked, being pulled alongside Ahri who had looped her arms around both his and Riven's and was pulling them along like an escort. "It's also the question that's the most unanswered."

"So you don't have one?"

"Like hell we do," said Riven, who was letting Ahri pull her along too. "We didn't even know the name of the ship we are getting on until yesterday. Even then, I think we're decoys in this strategy—the distraction." It was a point on which the three seemed to agree.

"So the first order of business," Zac decided, "is to find out why we were chosen in the first place."

"Right," Ahri agreed, "and the second order should be to find out what the stakes are."

"And then we'll decide what we want to do about this mess," Riven finished, subtly trying to loosen Ahri's grip on her arm. "The real problem is going to be Katarina. Because you know she looks down on all of us like we're just in her way."

"Ahh, who cares about her? Like I'm going to be shown up by a has-been assassin! I'm taking this trip all the way to Ionia, and nothin's gonna stop me!" Ahri declared, raising her arms in the air still intertwined with theirs too. Although not sharing her enthusiasm, Riven and Zac still found themselves humbly agreeing with her.

"Just wait and see, world! Nothing is going to stop us!"

"Don't jinx it," Zac said without thinking, and jumped a little when he was whipped by all nine of Ahri's tails for his wisecrack.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Author's Note: I hereby dedicate this chapter to character development. Because without it, I can't advance the stalled plot.)


End file.
